Stitchpunk Rush
by RobinsonSiblings
Summary: By RobinsonSiblings. Dolls can't be alive. Video games are just images behind a screen. Humans won't be extinct in the far future. Time travel is impossible. But when nine, small rag-dolls from a post-apocalyptic England in the year 3049 get transported into Litwak's Arcade in the year 2013, both sides are proven wrong. But are they really alone? And who exactly is I Am? CHAP 4 UP!
1. Prologue: Part 1

**TF: Hey guys, it's me, TF, along with Skye and Wilbur and whoever else decides to randomly drop in! I'm making this thing, and so far, it's going very well! I'm very surprised – in a good way!**

**Skye: I'm Skye! The idea for this story first came around when I was PMing to Lily about movies and mentioned _9, _and in explaining it, I was suddenly struck by the fact the Chews Your Racer menu can only have nine Racers ... well, one thing led to another, and voila! We got this! It's kinda a dedication to the people that we've met here!**

_**Wilbur: Yeah, Wilbur here, this was very fun to think up, although we had several bouts of writer's-block darn it! We also pieced together the cover ourselves. TF found the images she wanted (the picture of 3 and 4 playing with a game console was a bonus!) and put them together, nothing fancy. It took over a dozen tries, one hour, and eighteen picture try-outs, let alone fonts, but she finally finished it! I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out ... :)**_

**TF: So am I, Wil, so am I ...**

**Skye: Characters from _Wreck-It Ralph_ and _9_ are owned by Disney and Tim Burton/Shane Acker. We only own the plot, and the fact we were the first to think this up!**

**John: This is only part one of the prologue, we 'ad ta split it in half, so expect more soon!**

_**Wilbur: Uh ... why are you here?**_

**John: I'm not even in TPKR yet, I was bored, mate.**

**TF: I TOLD you people would start randomly dropping in!**

_**Wilbur: Why him?**_

**John: Excuse me? Who'd ya rather? Me, or the kid with the coffee?**

**Java: Heard that!**

* * *

_"People can be more forgiving then you imagine. But you have to forgive yourself. Let go of what's bitter and move on." – Bill Cosby_

* * *

**_Stitchpunk Rush_**

**_Prologue: Part 1_**

**_Year 3049, London, England._**

The sun began setting in the distance of the barren, apocalyptic wasteland, broken metal and dead bodies the only remains of humanity from the War of the Machines forty years before. Soft, pink light mixed with orange, yellow, red, and purple washed out over the landscape, bathing an abandoned library on the outskirts of a ruined city in pastel colors. The rusty gates hung still from disuse, marble statues dull under a coating of dust, and the library itself was scorched and broken in several places, giving it a dismal and haunted air. Inside, the floors and shelves were almost covered in books of all shapes, covers, sizes, and subjects, a thick layer of dust coating the statcks. Several stray statues posed in the far corners, and cracked paintings leaned against the walls, colors bleached and faded.

There was a faint, clattering sound from one of the stacks, and two figures carefully peeked out from behind the pile of books. They were identical, twin rag-dolls, no bigger then a person's hand, and appeared to be made out of a pair of gardening gloves. The gloves' cloth was a faded, light blue, with thin lines of dull yellow and dull brown, and four of the glove fingers served as their arms and legs. The fifth finger hung down their backs like a cape, and the opening of the gloves itself surrounded their white faces, very much like a hood. Their hands and feet were made out of brass, and they only had four fingers on each hand, resembling dull claws. Around their arms and legs were wrapped strings, and their wide eyes, steel-rimmed, glass optics, were white with black pupils. The only thing that was different between them was the fact they had different numbers drawn on their chests – the first with the number "3" on the right side, and the second with the number "4" on the left side.

The living dolls looked around, and they faced each other, clicking softly as their eyes flashed white light. Suddenly a rustle was heard nearby, and they stopped, spinning around just as there was a shrill scream. A white object barreled into them, knocking them down and pinning them onto the wooden floor, and the object laughed. "Ah ha! I found you!"

They giggled, and the white object smiled warmly. In fact, the object was a third rag-doll, slightly bigger then the twins and a pure, bleached white color. The doll gave off a clear, obvious feminine air, implying it was a female, had the exact same eyes as the twins did, and had a rectangular, green button sewed onto her chest, a thin rope tied around her waist like a belt and tinging her white cloth a rust color where it pressed. Her hands and feet were steel, and tied onto her right arm was a metal washer, rusted with use, with a number of rust-colored stitches over her body. Over her head was a white bird skull, several feathers hanging down her back from it and two smaller, carved shards hanging down each side of her head, making it look like she was wearing earrings. On her back was drawn the number "7", except that a large, ragged piece of red cloth was sewed over the numeral, almost covering it and roughly shaped like a jagged heart.

The white doll, 7, rolled off of them and stood up, brushing the dust off her bleached cloth. The twins scrambled to their feet and threw themselves at her, hugging her tightly as they clicked excitedly. She smiled, patting their hooded heads. "I love you too. Now c'mon, you need to get ready for bed."

3 and 4's eyes flashed as they nodded, the child mutes releasing her. 3 skipped ahead as 4 grabbed 7's four-fingered hand, clicking rapidly as they walked back to the center of the Library. It had been a month since the defeat of the Machines and the first rainfall in decades, and finally, things had taken a turn for the better for the dolls, called the Stitchpunks, also known as the Numbers Clan. Just a week after the funeral for the killed Numbers, the surviving ones, which were 3, 4, 7, and her new boyfriend, 9, had returned again to the room of their creation, the lab of the Scientist that had split his soul into the nine parts needed for the formally nine dolls.

Once there, 3 and 4 had accidentally stumbled across a box, and upon 7 slicing it open, they found it was full of their blueprints, journal entries for each creation, observations the Scientist had made of them while he was still alive, and ... an extra version of all of them. Exact copies. Judging from the journal entries towards the end, the Scientist expressed concern that something might happen to some of the Stitchpunks, and created one copy of each doll from extra material he had on hand, along with a blueprint detailing how to transfer the soul pieces into the extra bodies using the Source, an object that could transport souls. Apparently, only if all of the Numbers were killed would they stay dead, as a half-soul couldn't really leave Earth, only a whole one.

The four of them agreed to try and follow the Scientist's instructions, because after all, they were machine-like dolls and not actual Humans, so maybe such a thing was possible. Sure enough, the souls cam back to life in the order they had died, first 2, followed by 8, 5, 6, and lastly, 1. That had been almost four weeks ago, and now, the Stitchpunks were finally beginning to settle down as a family, adopting the Library as their new home since the Sanctuary burned down. Hard for 7 to believe they had been running for their lives from killer Machines only a month before – if she hadn't lived it.

3 abruptly squealed, sprinting forward and vanishing around a corner, and 4 pulled away from 7's grasp to run after his brother, disappearing from sight. 7 opened her mouth to call after them when there was a sharp cry of surprise, then a thud. The female warrior quickly darted after the twins, turning around the corner, then screeched to a stop and let a smile spread over her white face. "Sorry, they seem to still think they're playing Hide-And-Pounce."

The brown Stitchpunk laughed, gently pushing the twins off of him as he scrambled to his feet, fixing his hat. "I've noticed."

The new doll was a pale brown color, made of leather instead of cloth, with a number of darker and lighter leather patches sewn all over his body, to the point where his His eyes were brass-rimmed, with his hands being steel and his feet wooden, and he was wearing a worn, leather vest fastened in place with a shoestring tied in a neat bow. At the back of his head was sewn a metal circle, which apparently used to be a soldier's dog-tag and had the name "Shane Acker" engraved on it. The hat he was wearing at the moment was a small candle, onto which was attached half of a spoon to act as a rough snuffer, a crank to operate it, and the cut lens of a pair of glasses. He was about the same height as the twins, but obviously much older, and on the back of his vest was drawn the number "2".

3 and 4 giggled before grabbing linking their hands and running back off into the dusty piles of books, eyes flashing light. 7 and the older doll, 2, turned to watch them leave, and 2 chuckled. "They're so active, they always remind me of meerkats."

7 looked at him curiously. "Meerkats?"

The inventor waved a steel hand. "A type of small, southern African mongoose, especially the suricate. They belong to Suricata, as a matter of fact, and the other genera, the family Herpestidae. I think there's three species."

He paused. "... At least, there was before the Machines killed everything."

7 didn't get a word of what 2 had just said, except it seemed to be an extinct rodent, but nodded anyway. "I was going to get the twins ready for bed. What about you?"

The older doll raised an eyebrow. "Go to bed?"

7 face-palmed. "No! I meant ... I meant what are _you _doing out right now?"

2 sighed. "Well, I'm looking for 5. He seemed upset this morning and hasn't been acting himself, and now, I cannot find him. 9 said he saw 5 leave the Library a few hours back and go in the direction of the cemetery, so I'm hoping he's there."

The female smiled. "Makes sense. I'd better go after the twins and make sure they're not harassing 9 again. Just be careful, all right?"

2 rolled his brass eyes with a faint chuckle. "I'm old enough to take care of myself. You worry too much, my girl."

He paused thoughtfully, then patted her shoulder. "Thank you, though."

There was a far-away crashing sound, then a loud, angry roar followed by several shrill squeals of glee. The two dolls looked in it's direction, and 2 looked back up at 7. "I think that may be your cue to find the twins."

7 pulled down her bird-skull helmet, hiding her face, and nodded with a grin. "Don't I know it."

With that, she sprinted forward and leaped over a pile of books, vanishing in a flash of white cloth, and 2 waved goodbye in her direction before turning back around and heading for the Library exit, intent on finding 5 before the sun went down. After all, he didn't want the Stitchpunk to miss out on what was going on tonight. 3 and 4 weren't excited for no reason. Luckily, they were good at keeping secrets – especially when 2 wanted them to.

* * *

_Sc-c-c-rittch!_

The match burst into flames as 2 scraped it against a nearby brick, and he raised it up, lighting the candle on his hat before blowing the match out and throwing it away. It had only been fifteen minutes, and already the sun was nearly gone. Thus, the candle. 2's optic night-vision had never worked quite as well as the others did – well, not since "the Incident", anyway – so he needed all the light he could get. The Number carefully picked his way through the broken rubble surrounding him, mildly thankful there weren't any Humans around here. Nothing more daunting then going somewhere and suddenly finding yourself face-to-face with the blank stare of a dead Being.

Climbing on top of a pile of smashed metal, he straightened up and pushed his glass lens in front of his face, squinting down in the direction of the cemetery, which was directly below the junk heap. After a moment, 2 climbed back down the pile on the opposite side and, jumping to the ground, stopped and watched quietly. The burial ground was bare of junk, trash, and metal, and marked with five graves, arranged in a circle and each with a stone at the head, onto which was carved the number of the Stitchpunk buried there. 1. 6. 5. 8. 2 ... _it's a bit strange,_ 2 mused,_ to think of yourself as dead and buried._

Towards the side of the graves was a small, white music-box, belonging to 6 and closed as usual. In front of the box was sprouting a green and brown object, directly out of the ground, about the size of 7. Sitting on the music-box, figuring the green object and appearing to be deep in thought, was another Stitchpunk doll. This one was made out of dark brown burlap, with copper hands and feet. There were two large, dull yellow buttons sewn onto his chest, and there was a steel quiver on his back, holding a variety of pins, arrows, and fishhooks. His right eye was steel-rimmed, while his left eye was nowhere to be seen. Instead, in it's place was sewn an orange patch of worn leather. On his back, partly hidden by the quiver, was the ink number "5".

2 sighed in relief and walked over before tapping the burlap doll's shoulder. "5?"

"AH!" 5 screamed, spinning around and falling off the music-box with a crash.

2 winced. 5 had to be the jumpiest of the Stitchpunks, even above 6, so he got startled easily. Sometimes too easily. The older doll peered over the edge of the music-box worriedly. "Are you all right?"

5 sat up, rubbing the back of his head gingerly, and nodded. He scrambled to his feet, climbing back onto the music-box to stare at the green thing, and 2 paused before climbing up next to him, sitting down besides the burlap doll. 5 pointed to the green object. "What's it's name?"

The leather doll thought about that. "Mm ... I think it's called a 'tree'. It's like a living plant, a plant being an object that uses the sun for food."

5 looked shocked. "It _eats_ the sun?!"

2 laughed. "No, no, of course not! It uses the sun's rays to feed itself. I forget how. I think it might have to do with the green disks all over it. Plants were very useful to human beings when they were still alive, and they used them often. The material you're made out of, burlap, actually consists of the fibers of certain river plants woven together to make the fabric."

5 lifted one arm to study his cloth, then looked at 2. "What about you?"

The pale brown Number shook his head. "I'm not made out of cloth, I'm made out of leather. Leather is created from the skin of a dead animal, with the fur removed from the surface of the hide by a process called tanning."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Makes me wonder what type of animal I technically used to be ..."

5 nodded slightly, gaze falling to the ground, and 2 looked at him. "... What's wrong?"

5 looked up. "W-what?"

2 motioned to him. "You've been acting unusually quiet all day, and that isn't like you. What's bothering you?"

The burlap Number looked back down, kicking one foot as he rubbed his arm, a nervous habit, and 2 touched his shoulder gently. "You can tell me."

5 took a deep breath. "I ... I just ... I had a nightmare last night," he murmured.

2 cocked his head. "About what?" he asked softly.

5 winced. "The ... the Seamstress ..."

2 mouthed an O of understanding, and 5 closed his good eye. "I'm sorry ..."

The leather doll closed his mouth. "About what, my boy?"

The younger doll buried his face in his arms. "About what I d-d-did ..."

2's face softened. "5, you didn't have a choice, none of it was your fault–"

"YES IT WAS!" 5 screamed, whipping his head up as he faced 2. "IT WAS! I KILLED YOU, 2, I KILLED YOU! I HAD THE SPEAR, I WAS THE ONE THAT AIMED, I WAS THE ONE THAT THREW, I WAS THE ONE THAT WATCHED IT STAB THROUGH YOUR HEART AND _KILL _YOU!"

2 grabbed 5's shoulders. "5, _listen_ to me!" he exclaimed. _"Nothing_ that happened was your fault! You had to do it, you know that!"

The burlap Stitchpunk hiccuped miserably, turning away. "But maybe we could've gotten you back ..."

2 shook his head. "5, I was dead anyway, and locked inside the BRAIN at that. The Seamstress was simply using my body to capture all of you, but I wasn't in it. I wasn't alive. I wasn't there. You had to re-kill it, or else the Seamstress would have captured everyone and the BRAIN would have won. If anything, I _wanted _you to kill my body. It was bad enough 8 died because of me. You had to do it. Don't feel bad about it, it didn't hurt."

5 looked at him. "R-really?"

The older Stitchpunk grabbed 5's copper hand and placed it against his vest, and 5 kept perfectly still as he felt the heartbeat underneath where his palm was resting ... the exact place he had driven his spear through 2's chest. "You see?" 2 asked. "I'm fine now. What happened, happened, but the important thing is that we're all okay. It didn't hurt. But seeing you blame yourself does. It's in the past now, 5. Just let it go, my boy."

5 smiled faintly and, pulling his hand away, hugged 2 tightly. 2 hugged him back, patting his back, then pulled away and slid off the music-box, motioning with one hand to 5. "Come, follow me. We need to get back."

"All right," 5 answered, touching the "tree" gently before jumping off the box, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

He walked over to 2, and the two dolls headed back for the Library, the flame on 2's candle glowing brighter as darkness finally fell.

* * *

The Library was lit up from the inside, the electric lighting that had long been left to rust having been fixed up, lightbulbs replaced and car batteries relaying the needed power. Although the front of the Library itself was messy and untouched, the far back had been cleaned up considerably, as it served as home for the Numbers Clan, with rooms fashioned out of books. It was comfortable, not as spacious as the church Sanctuary had been, but it was all they had. For now, it was still as the dolls got ready to go to sleep. 2 and 5 rounded the corner of one of the stacks just before the back, stopping, and 2 turned to the younger doll. "5? Can you do me a favor?"

5 nodded. "Sure. What is it?"

2 motioned to the back. "Could you go get 9, then both of you go to the far shelves in Technology and wait?"

5's single eye blinked. "What for?"

The older doll smiled. "You'll see. Now shoo! Scat!"

5 shrugged, but being used to 2's strange ways, ran in the direction of 9's room, vanishing. 2 watched him go, then looked up. "You can come down now."

There was a giggle, and 3 and 4 slid off the stack of books, eyes flashing as they clicked excitedly. 2 nodded. "All right, you know what to do. 3, you go get 1 and 8, and 4, you get 7. Then bring them to the Technology section as well. I'll get 6."

The twins looked at each other, then nodded, beaming, and scampered off in opposite directions to fetch the other Stitchpunks. 2 chuckled softly, shaking his head, and turned the crank on his hat, snuffing out the flame on the candle with a hiss. He walked into the back, heading for one of the far corners, until he came to a stop in front of it. The corner was walled in with books, onto which was draped with a brown cloth that hung down to the floor, acting as both a ceiling and a make-shift doorway, similar to a tent. Grabbing the thick material, he pulled it aside and peered into the room behind it. "6?"

There was no answer. 2 stepped inside, letting the cloth fall back into place, and looked around. The room was small, a flickering candle in one corner, and the walls were covered in ink drawings on scraps of paper, newer since the old drawings got burned in the fire that consumed the Sanctuary. Several bottles of ink were huddled against the right wall, and several bunches of paper were scattered underfoot here and there, a bundle of ink-stained rags in a far corner.

In the middle of the floor, kneeling down, was another Stitchpunk. He was white with black stripes, with copper feet and palms. His fingers were golden and, unlike the other dolls, razor-sharp, being pen-nibs stained with black ink. His body was splattered and stained with the same ink, and he had a tuft of yarn hair, which looked to have been originally white but was stained black by now. Around his neck was a black, metal key, and he had mismatched eyes – the right one was silver, but the left one, slightly larger then the silver one, was gold. On the floor in front of him was a scrap of paper, onto which he was drawing something with his ink-covered fingers, mumbling to himself softly, and on his back was drawn the ink number "6".

2 stepped closer. "6?" he repeated.

6's head shot up, startled, but he relaxed upon seeing it was just 2 and grabbed the paper, scrambling to his feet and running up to the leather doll. He held up the ink-covered paper. "I d-d-drew you a p-picture," he stammered shyly.

2 took the paper, studying it, and blinked. The drawing was of two rough figures with lines scribbled over them, the numbers "1" and "0" scattered over the lines themselves. The first scribbled figure was against what looked like a wall, while the second one was holding a circle. In front of them was a much smaller figure, and a jagged line was in front of the smaller one, who was holding something, a rod it looked like. But the circle ...

He sucked in his breath sharply, brass eyes widening. The circle was the Source, the same object the Scientist had used to insert their souls ... and 6 had drawn it. But that was impossible, the Source was destroyed after bringing them back to life, destroyed from an overload of energy. But wait ... now that he looked closely, it looked different ... it was a circle, whatever it was, but it had lines etched in it, as if put together like a puzzle. That was odd. _Was_ that the Source? Or perhaps something else that just resembled it? What was it?

2 frowned. If anybody didn't know 6, they wouldn't think anything of it, just pass it off as a random picture. But 2 knew 6, and _nothing _the youngest drew was random. The young doll had the ability to ... see things. He was prophetic, able to see the past, present, and future via dreams and open visions, and heard voices telling him things in his head. Usually one voice, which he called "I Am". There were a few others, like "Son" and "Flame", and one 6 refused to speak of, "Bad". He never listened to Bad, apparently. When he had a dream or vision, he would draw it, often without even knowing what he was drawing until he was done.

Before 9 woke up and the Machines were activated, when it was just the eight of them, 6 would draw almost constantly. He would tell them that a ninth doll existed, that the Machines were coming, but nobody listened. Almost all of them had been convinced 6 was insane, mentally ill and unstable, and would just ignore the Number. Only 1 and 2 ever believed him, but 1 was simply interested in using 6's abilities for his own gain, while 2 would study the drawings trying to figure out their meaning. Then, one day, they found 9, and the Machines were awakened – just like 6 had said.

Everything else the doll had drawn and prophesied came true, too – 2 was killed, the Winged Beast attacked and burned down their home, then they were ambushed by the Seamstress, 8 was killed, 7 was rescued by 9, the BRAIN caught and killed 5, then 6, followed by 9 going to the First Room, (the lab) 1 saving 9's life and getting killed himself, then the defeat of the BRAIN, the release of the souls, and the first rainfall ... and after they had come back to life, 2 had realized why 6 was so much more scared back then then he was now ...

6 knew what was going to happen. He knew they would die. He knew _he _would die, that it would be painful, and had been forced to live with that knowledge. Fate couldn't be changed, it had to be fulfilled, otherwise the future wouldn't come true. 2 didn't know how much faith 6 had in that voice, but it must have been a lot if he wouldn't run when his time to die came, and allowed the BRAIN to kill him. The voice said everything would be okay ... and it right. And after they came back to life, 6 had been a lot less fearful, and the nightmares had all but vanished. Obviously, after everything he prophesied had come true, the other Numbers no longer thought he was insane.

... Well, at least not fully.

2 stared at the drawing, mind racing. There was no doubt this was another vision-drawing, he'd recognize the hurried style anywhere, so this had to be a prophesy. The question was ... of what? "6," he asked, pointing to the paper. "What is this?"

6 cocked his head. "G-g-glitch."

2 blinked. "... What?"

6 pointed to the paper. "G-glitch ... n-n-not the e-end ... again ... go b-b-back!"

The leather doll sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. A problem with trying to figure out 6's drawings was because he always spoke so cryptically, not to mention had that stuttering disability, so it was difficult to find out what he meant. 2 wasn't sure why only 6 had this problem, but he'd heard of similar things in Human children from medical books. Something about mercury poisoning ... autism? He sometimes wondered if 6 had that, because he certainly fit most of the symptoms. Ink here _was _usually tainted with mercury thanks to certain events during the war, and a day didn't go by without 6 getting his fingers into the black substance one way or another.

"Go back _where?" _he asked.

"B-back ... we n-n-need to go b-back!" 6 repeated, starting to tense nervously.

2 realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with this and, casting another glance at the drawing, folded it up into a small square. Undoing his bow-tie and pulling his vest open, he slipped the paper into the opening in his chest and closed it back up, tying the shoelace again. Reaching out, he carefully grabbed one of 6's sharp, golden fingers, not minding the ink that came off, and said, "Okay, we'll go back later, but right now, I want you to follow me, all right?"

6's mismatched gaze lit up. "S-surprise!"

2 looked surprised. "Who told you about that, my boy?"

6 kicked his foot at the ground, staring down at the wooden and ink-stained floor and reminding 2 very much of the way a shy child would act. "The I Am V-V-V-Voice told m-me about i-i-i-it ..."

2 smiled. _Why am I not surprised? _He released the artist's hand and ruffled 6's yarn-hair with a laugh. "Well, just don't tell the others yet. And tell the voice to mind it's own business!"

6 giggled. "H-He can't d-do that, H-He knows e-e-everything!"

The older Stitchpunk chuckled and turned aside, pulling back the cloth doorway as he stepped out of the dim room, and 6 ran over to the candle in the corner, blowing it out with a quick puff before scampering back outside with 2. 2 let the cloth fall back into place and, grabbing 6's inky, golden hand again, led the younger away from the corner room, heading for the back of the Library.

* * *

_"And it shall come to pass in the last days, says God, That I will pour out of My Spirit on all flesh; Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, Your young men shall see visions, Your old men shall dream dreams. And on My menservants and on My maidservants I will pour out My Spirit in those days; And they shall prophesy."_

_Acts 2: 17–18, New King James Version (NKJV)_

_TF (TFTime)_

_Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator)_

_Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)_

_With guest appearances of John St. Geoffrey the Skunk & Java the Mouse. I own Java and kinda John. Only half._


	2. Prologue: Part 2

**TF: Okay, here's the second part, where we start really getting into this thing! Franci and Lily are owned by ****_Lily Von Schweetz._**** Silver is owned by ****_Rainbow Guppy._**

**Skye: The Network is owned by us, technically, since we live there. Although we call it iApple. :) Sticky is here for _Sticky Wipplesnit,_ whose name TF keep spelling as "Stitchy" Wipplesnit. Oh, the irony. XD**

**TF: Hey!**

**Skye: Characters from ****_Wreck-It Ralph_**** and ****_9_**** are owned by Disney and Tim Burton/Shane Acker. TF?**

**TF: Fine. I only own the plot, and the fact we were the first to think this up!**

_**Wilbur: We are also aware people don't use film rolls these days, but hey, this is FanFiction. We write what we want. Oh, and in case some people get confused by 2 using his left hand more then his right, let me clarify that 2 is left-handed. I also kinda dedicated this chapter to the reviewer Aoki Aoi 16 – Jesus loves you!**_

**TF: And everyone else out there! Just look for him!**

_**?: Can I come out now?**_

**Skye: No.**

_**?: It's getting boring ...**_

**TF: Go talk to "Mystery", you guys aren't in here yet!**

_**?: Mystery passed out. Sis didn't give him anything to keep him busy, so he ...**_

_**Wilbur: Oh, great.**_

**Skye: Want me to get 2 again?**

**TF: Yeah ...**

**Skye: *leaves room***

**TF: *looks at readers* Don't. Ask. -_-**

* * *

_"Curiosity is natural to the soul of man, and interesting objects have a powerful influence on our affections." – Daniel Boone_

* * *

**_Stitchpunk Rush_**

**_Prologue: Part 2_**

Upon reaching the Technology section with 6, 2 found that 3, 4, and 5 had indeed gotten the rest of Numbers Clan together, with not only 3, 4, 5, and 7 there, but also three other Stitchpunks. The first one was an impatient-looking, dull white doll with steel-rimmed eyes, and his pupils, unlike the ones the other dolls had, were narrow and triangular. His body was sewn together with dark brown thread, the cloth appearing to be canvas or the non-stick side of Velcro, and there were two straps with buckles around his middle. His hands and feet were wood and steel, and he wore a somewhat ragged, red velvet cape, fastened at the front with a small, ruby brooch. He held a staff with half of a gear on top, forming a kind of hook with a bell attached to the top, and on his head was a tall, metal hat with red thread wrapped around it, the thread keeping in place an English, copper penny with the number "1" on the front. Whatever number the doll had was hidden by the cape.

The second doll, next to 3 and looking confused, was also white, made out the material of a sock, and twice as large as the other Stitchpunks. Half of his cloth was the outside part of the sock, while the other half was the inside, making it look like he was made out of two different cloths all together. Holding together the cloth in the middle were three metal fasteners, and around his neck like a protective frill or shoulder guard was a large cog, cut up but strung back together by leather string. His hands and feet were a mixture of steel, brass, and copper, with steel-rimmed eyes, and across his mouth were three faded, ink lines – courtesy of 6. On his back was tied a magnet, which held a large, steel knife with a rusty nail tied to the bottom by leather string as a handle, half of the blade of a scissors, and the top of a salt-shaker, and on his right shoulder was drawn the number "8".

The third doll, talking to 5, was burlap like 5 himself, but a lighter brown. His feet and fingers were bright copper, with his palms made of wood, and there was crimson stitching across his left shoulder. His eyes were steel-rimmed, with stitches above them that resembled eyebrows, and on his chest was a large, brass zipper. In his hands was a steel staff with a lightbulb on the top, the lightbulb of which was glowing at the moment, and on the doll's back was the number "9".

Hearing 2 and 6 enter the book-filled area, 4's eyes lit up, and he waved cheerfully. 6 waved back, running over to the twin, and the other Stitchpunks turned around. 7 stepped forward, her helmet back up. "2? What's going on?"

"And _why_ are we all back here?" the caped Stitchpunk, 1, asked in annoyance. "If this is another one of your foolish ideas, I want nothing to do with it."

2 ignored the last part, used to his older brother's negative attitude towards things. A wonder their souls were even related ... "I found something last night," 2 explained, pointing father back into the Technology section. "Follow me!"

Without waiting for a response, the leather doll ran past them and vanished around the corner of a bookshelf. The Stitchpunks looked at each other curiously, then went after him. A talent of 2's, besides being able to fix, operate, invent, and alter anything electrical, was being able to find what he called "riches among ruin". If he was excited enough about finding something to get them, it must be something special indeed. The eight dolls rounded the corner of the bookshelf, which led to a shadowy, some secluded area in the farthest corner of the Library, dusty from disuse.

Books and artifacts were shoved aside, the floor cleared off, and several cloths thrown in a messy pile in the center of the wooden floorboards. Stacks of books were piled around them, almost like a series of walls, and the place stopped in a dead end. Nobody was there. But hadn't 2 just gone in this direction? The Number with the zipper, 9, held up his lightstaff as he looked around. "2?"

"Up here!"

The dolls looked up. 2, perched on top of a cardboard box in one of the shelves, waved down at them. "It's a package!" he announced, patting the cardboard.

3 and 4's eyes flashed, and they faced each other, clicking excitedly as they motioned with their hands, and 9 looked at 7. "What's a package?" he asked.

7 grinned, pointing at the box. "That! Packages are boxes the beings sent to each other that held items! When the Machines attacked, they destroyed most of the packages and everything inside of them. Finding one these days is _very_ rare."

She looked thoughtful. "I wonder why it's in here ..."

2 studied the top of the box, running his steel fingers over it while on his knees. "It's still sealed, so there's a high possibility that whatever was placed in here is still there. There's also some wording here ..."

He squinted at the faded print. "... Two ... zero ... one ... two? 2012? This is from _2012?"_

8 raised an eyebrow, whistling, and 5 leaned over to 9. "That's almost a thousand years ago, right?" he whispered.

9 nodded yes to his best friend, and 7 swung down her helmet, running over to the bookcase and nimbly climbing up it. Reaching the shelf the box was settled on, she hoisted herself onto the wooden surface and, standing up, sprinted over to the cardboard package to go behind it. 2 carefully slid off the box, landing next to the female, and 7 called, "8! C'mon and catch this thing when it drops!"

8 shrugged, walking over and positioning himself under the shelf the box was on, and 9 blinked. "Drops?"

7 and 2 shoved the box hard. It slid forward, teetering on the edge of the wooden shelf, then tipped over and plummeted to the floor. 8 managed to catch it, despite it being five times his size, and carefully set it down on the floor, creating a puff of dust where it landed. 7 leaped off the shelf, landing on her feet on top of the box, and 2 slid down the cord of a drape that was hanging down nearby him. Reaching the ground, the older doll released his grip on the rope and ran over to the box, and 7 bent down, offering a hand. 2 accepted it, and she hoisted him up next to her with her literal steel grip. "How can we open it?" 9 asked, coming up to the box to tap it's side with a copper finger.

2 kneeled down on the box, feeling the tape that closed it up. "Hm ... something sharp."

He held his hand out to 7, not taking his brass-rimmed eyes off of a certain section on the tape. "Give me your spear."

7 reached behind her back, pulling free her knife weapon with an animal bone as a handle, and placed it in 2's hand. He held the blade over the tape, aiming carefully, then plunged it down as hard as he could. There was a ripping sound, and the metal tip pierced the tape, along with the cardboard below. 2 wrapped both hands around the handle, pulling it to the side, and the knife slit through the ancient tape, unsealing the box with another tearing sound. The leather doll finally pulled the blade out, laying it besides him, and grabbed the edge of the box-flap that was opposite to them and pulled upward. The flap came free, unfolding onto the other side with a sudden shift, and 2 accidentally lost his balance – and fell into the box.

The sudden movement in the box caused it to tip over, and it crashed into the wooden floor on it's side, throwing 7 clear with a yelp while almost flattening 8 and 9. The other dolls quickly backed away, and the contents of the box spilled out in a cascade of black circles before they came to a stop, laying still. One of the circles moved, then was shoved aside, and 2 gingerly climbed out of the pile, wincing as he shook one of his hands. "I'm fine. Accidentally twisted my wrist the wrong way, but fortunately, it was my right one and not my left. Perfectly fine."

He jumped off the circles, and 7 got to her feet, fetching her spear before walking over and poking one of the circles with the tip of the blade. They were large, as big as them, and had thin, brown plastic around the edges that was opaque, and white labels were plastered onto the top and bottom of the circles with writing on them. "What _are _these things?"

3 and 4 rushed over to the circles and started picking them up, flashing and clicking in excitement as they catalogued the objects. 2 straightened his hat. "My goodness ... I think they're _actual _emulsion analog recordings backed by rem-jet bases."

"In English?" 1 deadpanned sarcastically.

"Rolls of video film."

5 walked over, timidly touching the surface of one of the rolls. "Do they still work?"

2 studied the brown plastic at the sides. "I think so. The film itself is in excellent condition for something so old."

His black eyes suddenly lit up, and he pointed at some small writing on one of the rolls. "Look at this! It's from America!"

8 whistled. "Whoa."

9 looked confused. "America?"

2 waved a steel hand. "Another country, far away. Very into technology. Of course, they're dead like everybody else, but ..."

He tapped the roll. "Some of the fruits of their labour are still around."

The vested doll looked up. "Does anyone know where a projector is? Maybe we can watch some of these before bed."

7 nodded. "Yeah, by the bookshelf. Me and 8'll get it."

Motioning to the large Number, the two headed around the bookshelf, vanishing. They reappeared a moment later, shoving a black film projector across the floor, and positioned it nearby the box. 9 studied the rolls of film. "Which one should we put in first?"

6 pointed to the roll that 2 had been studying. "T-that one."

3 and 4 looked at each other, and 5's single eye blinked in confusion. "That one? Why that one?"

6 figured his key. "T-the Voice ... g-g-glitch ... there!"

1 raised an eyebrow, and 2 shrugged, picking up the film roll with some difficultly since his wrist still hurt, and lugged it over to the projector. "What have we got to lose?"

He leaned the roll against the projector before shoving a thick book next to it, and climbing onto the hard-cover novel, grabbed the roll again and lifted it up, placing it in the roll holder. "A good thing there's already an empty one there ..." he murmured, casting a quick glance at the empty roll at the other end, ready to be filled.

3 and 4 plopped down on the pile of cloth next to the projector, and the others followed their example as they waited for the "movie" to start, watching the blank wall the projector faced. 2 studied the panel of buttons on the device, then reached out with his left hand and pushed a button. The projector whirled to life, spilling a square of shimmering, white light on the wall in front of them. 2 jumped down from the book and, running over to the nearby wall, reached up and flicked a switch. The electric lights flickered, then went out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The leather Stitchpunk walked back to the others, sitting down to watch, and the screen flashed numbers as it began counting down. Surprisingly, it didn't start at ten ...

_9._

_8._

_7._

_6._

_5._

_4._

_3._

_2._

_1 ..._

The numbers vanished as the screen flickered again, then cleared, showing an image. It looked like the inside of a building, with large boxes splashed with color all over the place, moving pictures on them. The video seemed to be recording from someplace high-up, the ceiling perhaps, and was aimed towards one particular box, pink and white in color. Seated in front of the box, staring at the two moving pictures on it intently, were ...

9 blinked. _"Beings?"_

5 shrugged. "I guess they're weren't extinct back then."

The two human beings were both girls, in their late teens and chatting together. The first one had tan skin, with golden-brown hair and dark brown eyes, wearing a blue and white outfit. The second one had unusually pale skin paired with dark brown hair tinged with gold streaks, and icy blue eyes rimmed with gold, wearing a blue, Japanese kimono. There was a screen in front of each of them, on which were what looked like fancy cars. The tan girl was operating a white and teal car with the figure of a black-braided girl in it, while the pale one was controlling a cyan car with another girl, one with equally cyan hair.

"C'mon, c'mon!" the pale girl exclaimed, twisting something that looked a wheel, which was attached to the box.

7 cocked her head, mouth open slightly. "What the ... what are they _doing?"_

"It's a game."

Everybody turned and stared at 2, who shrugged. "I happen to remember Creator mentioning something like this. Gaming, he called it. Young beings called children went there a lot to amuse themselves. That kind of game with the cars is seeing who can be faster with the controls, and is referred to as racing."

"F-fun!" 6 exclaimed.

"Waste of time," 1 muttered darkly.

7 rolled her eyes, and they went back to watching. A theme-song in a different language, possibly Chinese or Japanese, was playing in the background of the game, and the pale girl made her character race through a white box on the screen. A voice announced, "Sweet Seekers!" as there was a flash of white sparkles as three missiles appeared out of thin air.

5 winced at the bad memories, and 9 patted his shoulder comfortingly. 5 shot him a thankful look. The rockets zoomed forward and crashed into three cars ahead, blasting them out of the way of the pale girl's player, and she laughed as she steered her character. "I'm ahead!" she exclaimed, blue eyes glinting as the car sped towards a checkered line ahead in the screen.

"Oh, yeah? Well _vigilate hoc! _Watch this!" the tan girl laughed, reaching for something.

6 blinked. "G-glitch."

She jammed her thumb against the button, and there was a flash of blue pixels as the black-haired racer dissolved, then reappeared a few feet ahead of the rival character, crossing the checkered line first. A voice yelled, "First Place, Lily von Schweetz! Second Place, Sticky Wipplesnit! Congratulations!"

Colored sparkles filled the screen as the car vanished, replaced by the black-haired figure, dressed in teal and white, being presented a large, golden cup with handles. There was a flash of light followed by a click as 4 took a picture, and 2 chuckled. The character squealed as she got the cup and waved at the tan girl, who grinned and pumped one fist. "Yes! I win!"

The pale girl grinned back. "Yeah, well, just wait until next time! Then I'll wipe the floor with you!"

"Wipe the floor ...?" 5 echoed in pure confusion.

8 shrugged. The tan girl laughed. "That day will never come! I am champion of arcade!"

The pale girl stuck out her tongue. "Pride cometh before a fall, Franci. Remember that."

"All right everyone, the arcade's closing! Last game, everybody out!" an elderly voice announced

Franci cast a last look at the character holding the cup and stood, stretching before she turned and walked out of the view of the video. The pale girl didn't move, and Franci called, "Silver! Come on!"

The girl rolled her blue and gold-tinged eyes. "Coming!"

She stood up, casting a smile at the screens showing the characters, then spun around, walking out of the camera's sight. A door closed, followed by the clicking of metal as something was locked, then footsteps fading away into the distance. The building was filled with silence except for songs playing faintly in the background, when abruptly, the screen of the camera began to flicker and blur, warping the images on it. 7 frowned. "What the ...?"

The screen flashed light, then began sputtering and scrambling itself crazily. 5 scooted away fearfully. "What's wrong with it?!"

9 stood up, running over to the wall the light-created screen was on, and reached out to touch it. 2 looked alarmed. "Wait! What are you doing?! We don't know what it is!"

Instantly, 9 froze as his optics widened in horror.

* * *

_9 looked down at the circle object, then at the empty space in what appeared to be a huge, metal ball. "It looks like it goes in this machine thing ..."_

_7, 5, and 2 turned around, and 7 asked in confusion, "What?"_

_9 stepped forward, and 2's brass-rimmed eyes widened as he released 7's hand, running back towards 9. "Wait!"_

_9 didn't hear him and placed the circle in the space, which began to glow a strange, green light. 2 reached him and, pushing him out of the way, grabbed the circle, pulling hard as he tried to yank it back out. "What are you doing?!" he exclaimed frantically. "We don't know what it is–"_

_There was a humming sound as the circle started vibrating, and 2 quickly stumbled back and away from it, tripping and almost falling to the ground, except that 9 quickly caught him. The two dolls stared at the circle as the glowing intensified, when 2's eyes widened and he yanked away from 9, spinning around and shoving the burlap Number backwards and sending him crashing to the ground._

_Instantly a beam light shot out of the circle, and 2 whirled around to face it in alarm when the beam slammed into his face, and he screamed in pain as his glass optics shattered. A glowing, green light flew out of his eyes and open mouth, the circle sucking it into the symbols carved on it's surface, and there was a burst of white light. The green light vanished, and 2 collapsed to the ground. 5 looked horrified. "2!" he screamed._

_9 could only stare at 2's blank, empty eyes in horror ... "NO!"_

* * *

"AHHH!" 9 screamed, yanking back his hand as he stumbled away from the wall, accidentally tripping and crashing to the floor.

"9!" 7 exclaimed, and she and 2 quickly rushed over to him, kneeling down on the wooden floor. "Are you okay?"

"Did it hurt you?!" 2 asked worriedly as 7 pulled 9 up into a sitting position, noticing 9 was trembling violently.

9 bit his lip. "N-no, but ..."

He suddenly spun around, surprising 2 by hugging him tightly, and choked out, _"Never_ s-say that!"

2's brass eyes reflected confusion. "Never say wha–"

He stopped, then realized what 9 meant, and he sighed before hugging 9 back. "Sh, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you, my boy."

9 nodded timidly, and 2 glanced over at the sputtering screen. "I doubt that will kill us, but you can never be too careful. It is odd, though."

"G-glitch ..." 6 murmured.

Everyone turned to look at him, and 7 raised an eyebrow. "Glitch? What in this sorry excuse for Earth is a glitch?"

5 looked thoughtful. "It's a malfunction. A mistake in a machine or in programming. You guys were able to destroy the BRAIN because of the programming glitch activated that sent it into shock and overload when you removed our souls from it's soul holder."

1 studied the square of light. "So that might be a glitch of some sort?" he asked in annoyance.

7 snorted, hefting her bird helmet over her head as the others looked at her. "Hmph. Just as long as it doesn't do anything freaky."

6 pointed at the screen. "L-like that?"

The Stitchpunks whipped their heads around and stared at the screen in surprise. It was still flickering, but had split itself in half, the left side pure white while the other was jet black. In the center was plastered a jagged lightning-bolt, the part on the black side white and the part on the white side black. Flickers of blue glitches zipped up and down the screen, flashing wording across the symbol, and 9 blinked. "... The Network?"

As if in response, there was a loud humming sound, and the dolls barely had any time to even blink before an explosion of black and white light erupted from the lightning-bolt symbol, engulfing them and their surroundings completely. 9 opened his mouth to yell something, anything, only to find his voice-box wasn't working due to the intense amounts of electromagnetic energy being aimed at him. He carefully opened his optics, and was shocked to see the light was still there, yet he wasn't being blinded. In the light, he could dimly make out the other Numbers, just as alarmed as he was at the moment.

Suddenly, 1 vanished from sight. Their black eyes widened, and 2 opened his mouth despite the fact he obviously knew their voice-boxes wouldn't work, when before they could blink, he was gone too. 3 and 4 looked at each other, when they also vanished, and it suddenly hit the remaining Numbers. They were vanishing in numerical order. 5 spun around to face 9 in horror, and their eyes met for only a second before he disappeared as well. 6 just sat still, almost waiting, and was gone. 7 gritted her teeth as she withdrew her spear to fight back, but the next instant, she had also vanished. 8 could only blink before he was gone with the rest of them. 9 sucked in his breath as he waited ... and was not disappointed.

A rush of burning-hot and ice-cold swept through his body, and instantly, the light exploded outward in red and blue flickers, then dissolved into black. It vanished, and the projector slowly ran to a stop. The Stitchpunks were nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_"Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed – in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed."_

_1 Corinthians 15: 51–52, New King James Version (NKJV)_

_TF (TFTime)_

_Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator)_

_Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)_

_With guest appearance of ... well ... you'll find out. :) I and Wilbur own him. Don't own Mystery, though._


	3. Chapter 1: Back To Square One

**Skye: And here it is, guys, the first actual chapter of Stitchpunk Rush!**

**TF: This took quite a while to write to make it as realistic as possible, and I always wondered how these two would react if they met each other! We weren't really planning on releasing this 'til Monday, especially since Pure Knight hasn't been finished with it's own update, but decided to do an early chapter JUST THIS ONCE!**

_**Wilbur: So yeah, nothing much to say except thanks for the reviews! It's always good to see what other people think! And also, thanks to God, because he gave us the idea of all this in the first place, to be used for the glory of God.**_

**TF: You didn't think I'd write this and not have some spiritual lessons in it, right?**

**Skye: Basically, TF writes everything. I think up dialog randomly, while Willy suggests twists once in a while.**

_**Wilbur: Don't call me that in public, unless you want me giving out your real name.**_

**Skye: Heh heh ... *sweat-drop***

**TF: ANYWAY, we don't own anything except for the plot! Enjoy! :D *whispers* Is Mystery okay?**

**Skye: Yeah, he's fine. A little tired from his fit, but fine.**

**Dr. Mario: Even though he a-broke a lot of my a-pill bottles! My a-Bad Guy viruses almost got game a-overed!**

**Mystery: I said I was sorry ...**

**TF: Well, don't worry about it. Technically, that didn't happen.**

**Dr. Mario: Yet.**

**TF: *shrugs* Not my problem.**

**Dr. Mario: Gee, a-thanks.**

**Mystery: What's this do?**

**Dr. Mario: *gaps* DON'T A-TOUCH THAT!**

* * *

_"Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." – Anais Nin  
_

* * *

_**Stitchpunk Rush**_

_**Chapter 1: Back To Square One**_

Bright light, a flickering burst of blue and red, a flash of color, then–

_CRASH!_

The glass pane shattered inward as 1 slammed against it, the pieces flying everywhere. 1 crashed onto the desk table below the window, shielding himself from the flying shards with his cape, before carefully sitting up and adjusting his hat. "Hmph," he grumbled.

The white doll looked around his surroundings. The Library, the Numbers, the screen ... it was all gone. Instead, he appeared to be in some kind of small bedroom, owned by a girl at one point he guessed, from the simply _overwhelming_ amount of neon pink. Something about Human females and that color ... bleh. The table he was on was dark red, with papers that had pink wording scribbled over them, a cup with lollipops nearby, and a pink throw-run was on the floor. Several bookcases were against the pink walls, most of which held golden, gleaming cups or tied-up bags. The bed was neatly done, the white door closed, and a closet door was slightly open, revealing pink girl outfits inside.

1 suddenly blinked, and his eyes narrowed. Everything was neat. Too neat. Too ... perfect. The Machines had destroyed all sites of Human civilization, and yet, here this ... this _place_ was, looking untouched and as if someone had just dusted it twenty minutes ago! He crossed his arms, looking around. "If this is some kind of elaborate set-up of 2's like the hologram incident, I don't care whether or not he says it's an accident, I am going to _kill_ him."

... Well, maybe not _kill,_ not after they were resurrected so soon, he'd just get angry and maybe yell at him. Besides, he still felt slightly guilty about sending 2 to die the first time, even if he was a bother. Whoever said younger siblings weren't annoying was a liar.

Getting to his feet, 1 dusted himself off, eyeing the shards of glass surrounding him. Now that he looked at it closely, it didn't really look like glass ... more like some kind of gritty, melted substance or something. The table, too, didn't seem to be wooden, and the entire room was filled with a weird smell that reminded 1 of those perfumes 3 and 4 once accidentally fell into once, the ones that were supposed to smell like an extinct, plant substance Humans used to eat.

The door suddenly swung open, and 1 turned around to see a figure walk into the room nonchalantly. The figure stopped, staring at 1 as her eyes widened, then opened her mouth and let out an ear-splitting scream. 1 stared back at her as the figure kept screaming, then tapped his foot impatiently after a minute of hearing her. "... Are you blasted done yet?!" he snapped.

The figure stopped screaming, blinked, then slowly closed her mouth and stared at 1, looking shocked. 1 was slightly surprised as well, although he would never show or admit it, as the figure wasn't a doll at all, but a living, breathing ... Human Being. She was obviously a female, looking to be a young girl of nine years, and had white skin with short, well-trimmed and brushed hair that was pale blonde and reached her chin. She had dull blue eyes lined with black mascara, and wore a sparkly, pink dress edged with white squiggles at the bottom under a dark pink jacket, lined with white and sporting a dark green collar. Over her hands were white gloves, and she had pink and white-striped stockings with pink and white shoes. On top of her head was a sparkly, pink and green cap with green disks on top, like the ones the green thing at the cemetery had.

He snorted. "You look ridiculous."

The Human seemed to snap out of the shock she was in and glared at 1 angrily, crossing her arms. "Well, excuse _me,_ but these clothes are the finest in all of Sugar Rush, thank you very much!" she exclaimed. "Besides, when in candy-corn did talking dolls get added in here, let alone ones as ugly as you?"

1's eyes flashed as he stepped forward. "First of all, if there's somebody who's ugly around here, it has to be you. Second, you're supposed to be dead, not insulting me."

The girl also stepped forward. "Hey! I'm not ugl–"

She broke off and stared at 1 in surprise. "... Wait. I'm supposed to be _what?"_

1 looked annoyed. "Did I say what? Because I am certain I said dead," he asked sarcastically.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Why the fudge am I supposed to be dead?"

The white Stitchpunk narrowed his eyes even more. "Because the Beasts killed everything, it would be impossible for any signs of life to have survived the gas. Unless you're a robot that Humans were vain enough to model after themselves, which I would not doubt judging by the fact Humans would surely have more taste of style then you."

He adjusted his cape and, picking up his staff, turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some people to find."

He started to walk away when the Human exclaimed, "Wait! Don't go!"

1 turned around to stare at her, and she took a deep breath. "Look, maybe ... maybe we got off on the wrong foot here."

"Both feet is what it appears to be," he scowled.

The girl rolled her blue eyes. "Both feet or not, we both kinda went off wrong, so I ... I'm sorry for insulting you and would like to start over."

She held out a white-gloved hand. "My name is Taffyta. Taffyta Muttonfudge, champion Racer."

1 studied her hand, which oddly enough had only four fingers instead of the five Humans were usually known for, then reached out and tapped one finger with the tip of his staff. "1."

The girl, Taffyta, looked confused. "1? You do know that's a number, right?"

"I am perfectly aware it's a number!" 1 snapped. "We were all named after numbers! And who names their child Taffyta?"

Taffyta raised an eyebrow, either not really hearing the last part or ignoring it. "We? As in, there's _more_ of you?"

1 crossed his arms. "Yes. Eight others, besides myself."

"Are they all like you?" she asked curiously.

The Stitchpunk rolled his eyes. "Sadly, no."

Taffyta walked up to the table, brushing the glass-like shards off of the chair, and plopped down, taking a lollipop out of the cup on the desk and popping it in her mouth, sucking thoughtfully. "So ... why exactly are you in my room to begin with?" she questioned.

1 nodded up at the window. "I fell through that and into here, in case you haven't already noticed the broken pane and glass," he answered sarcastically.

She made a face. "Yeesh, just wondering. I've never seen you before. What game are you from?"

1 stared at her. "... Excuse me. _Game?"_

Taffyta rolled her eyes. "Duh, you have to be from a game, or else you wouldn't be here. This is Sugar Rush Speedway."

The white Number raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying ... that this is a _game?"_

The Racer nodded. "Yeah! I mean, last time I checked, the real world wasn't made out of candy like this place is."

1 tried to recall that word. Candy. Wasn't that some type of sweet, usually artificial food Human Beings used to eat, especially children? Then all this was _candy?_ Well, that certainly explained the odd texture of the "glass" and the table he was standing on, not to mention the overpowering scent ... but games weren't real. According to 2, they were just pictures behind a screen. Right? Then again, they were living dolls, and dolls weren't supposed to be alive either. He studied her. "This is the inside of a game? An actual _game?"_

Taffyta huffed. "Yes, it is! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

The Stitchpunk snorted. "Well, excuse _me,_ but I'm not part of any useless, time-wasting game! Games aren't real!"

The girl's blue eyes widened, and she took the lollipop out of her mouth. "You're not from a game?" she echoed in disbelief. "Then you're from ... from the real world?!"

"You catch on slower then I would've expected," 1 muttered.

Taffyta leaned forward, staring at 1 in amazement. "Whoa ... this sounds like something Candlehead would dream about after eating Pop Tarts. But ... dolls aren't real in the real world! They're just toys!"

He glared up at her. "We're not dolls, we're Stitchpunks."

The blonde-haired girl frowned. "What's the difference?"

"A doll," 1 said matter-of-factly. "Is a child's play-toy used to pass the time. A _Stitchpunk,_ however, is a hybrid between a doll, robot, and Human Being. We have the appearance of dolls, but the inner workings of a robot and the mind and soul of a Human."

Taffyta looked thoughtful, sticking the lollipop back into her mouth as she sucked on it. "Mm. Still not much difference."

1 snorted, and she pulled the lollipop out of her mouth again, setting it on the table as she leaned closer, resting her elbows on the dark table. "You got any idea how you ended up here?"

His steel-rimmed eyes rolled. "I have a perfect idea of how I got here. 2 got out these ancient rolls of film and played them, they showed what I now assume is this ... this _game_ ... and the screen turned white before everything went dark. Next thing I know, I'm falling through a window, and you–" he pointed a steel finger at her. "–Were no help at all!"

The Racer ran a glove through her pale-blonde hair, rolling her blue eyes. "Excuse me, but it's not every day I find someone in my _room."_

"Excuse me," 1 retorted. "But it's not every day I find myself in some forsaken children's game! What is this place, anyway?"

Taffyta motioned around herself. "Like I said before, this is the game Sugar Rush Speedway, of Litwak's Arcade."

1 frowned. Arcade ... why did that sound so familiar? He shrugged it off, straightening his cape, and Taffyta snapped her fingers. "Hey, I just had an idea!"

He looked at her. "I already fear it."

The girl ignored that and pointed at him. "You said there were eight others like you, right? Well, if _you're _here, then they just might be around here somewhere, too!"

He blinked. She did have a good point there ... "Where, though?" he questioned skeptically.

Taffyta shrugged. "Beats me. Sugar Rush is a huge game – there's literally thousands of places for a tiny doll–"

_"Stitchpunk."_

"–To be in and not be seen," she finished, paying no attention to the white Number's annoyed correction.

1 crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "Then what do you suggest?"

Taffyta smiled. "I can help you!"

1 blinked again. "... You'll do _what?"_

"Why not?" she asked, leaning back in her chair as she slid her hands into the pockets of her pink jacket. "My guess is that, if I found you, then maybe some of the other Racers found your other ... family members. In that case, we can go see Vanellope. She's our President, and if anybody can find someone in Sugar Rush in a hurry, it's her. Besides, the other Racers just might bring the other dolls to the Castle as well in order to try and find out where the rest are."

The Stitchpunk raised an eyebrow. "How can somebody be a president, yet live in a castle?"

Taffyta chuckled. "Our game programming has her a princess, but she doesn't like that, so she made herself the President instead."

1 rolled his eyes. The pink Racer stood up, grabbing her lollipop and sticking it back into her mouth, then held out a hand towards 1. "Climb on. I can get us to the Castle faster then bubble-gum can pop!"

"That had _better_ be a positive expression ..." he grumbled, gingerly stepping onto her hand.

Normally, he would do no such thing, but it wasn't like he really had a choice. As much as he hated to admit it, the others of the Numbers Clan were still family, no matter how annoying. As the leader, it was his job to make sure they were all right, and he couldn't very well do that by himself. This girl – Taffyta – might be able to help, and if she could, then who was he to refuse assistance? 1 settled down on her palm, and Taffyta quickly grabbed a set of keys from the table that he hadn't noticed, pocketing them. "I'll sweep up the sugar glass later."

1 decided not to comment, eyeing the shards below warily, and crossed his arms. "Don't drop me, or else I will never speak to you again."

She winced. "Ouch. Harsh."

Carefully cupping her fingers around 1, Taffyta then turned and ran out of her bedroom through the open door, lollipop in mouth, and 1 looked back at the room thoughtfully. It was interesting ... to be inside of a game. If he really was inside one and not dreaming, which he doubted, dreaming wouldn't hurt so much. Besides, it took much concentration for a Stitchpunk to dream – except for 6, because he wasn't really the one doing the dreaming – and 1 would never concentrate on something as ridiculous as this all was.

But how had a game survived the War of the Machines? All of the electric sources were destroyed, the only way the Numbers Clan could even light the Library was by using car batteries, so shouldn't the game be shut down? How was it not only working, but alive behind the screen? And where _were_ the other Numbers? How had they gotten here? If they were even here ... for all 1 knew, they could be somewhere else entirely, but going to the "Castle" certainly seemed like the best shot he had.

Glancing down at Taffyta's white palm, he suddenly noticed something and lifted his right hand, staring at it. On the back of the steel was a rather deep scratch, shaped like a circle, and he frowned. That was strange ... he hadn't noticed that before. He certainly didn't have that at the Library. Had the glass shards made that mark without him knowing it? He gave a small _"hmph"_ and lowered his hand, grasping his staff as he watched the surroundings whiz by as Taffyta ran through what appeared to be a somewhat large, yet _very_ pink house.

He hoped the other Stitchpunks were okay. Especially 2. He may not really like him, but they were still soul brothers, and he might know how to get out of this game and back to the Library. 2 wouldn't be able to help if something bad had happened to him. 1 quickly shook his head. He couldn't think negatively at the moment, he could do that later. For all he knew, 2 was nearby and perfectly fine.

Unbeknowst to 1, he was right. 2 was indeed nearby, much more so then either he or Taffyta thought.

But 2 was anything but perfectly fine.

* * *

_"A man [who has] friends must himself be friendly, But there is a friend [who] sticks closer than a brother."_

_Proverbs 18: 24, New King James Version (NKJV)_

_TF (TFTime)_

_Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator)_

_Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)_

_With guest appearances of Mystery and Dr. Mario Mario. I don't own either of them, Nintendo owns Mario and Mystery is owned by ... spoilers, but he's owned by someone else! He's not even really NAMED Mystery, that's his dub, because his real name is a spoiler. :D_


	4. Chapter 2: Two Heads Are Better Then One

**TF: I was not, and repeat, NOT going to post ANOTHER update so soon, but Aoi reminded Wilbur that today's 6 Creation Day (aka 6's birthday!) so, despite not being about 6, I decided to release this anyway. So ... ****here it is! The second chapter of Stitchpunk Rush!**

_**Wilbur: This actually turned out to be longer then we expected, but we're very happy with the results. :)**_

**TF: I snuck ****in two quotes from the movie "Up" (which was awesome!) in here, see if you can find them, as well as references to the stories "Pained Art" and "Two Of A Kind". This chapter actually helped us create the story when we noticed the resemblance between the two characters, and, well ...**

**Skye: As usual, we don't own anything except for the story! Now enjoy and review before Wilbur gets mad!**

_**Wilbur: When have I ever gotten mad because of something like that?**_

**Skye: There's always a first. :D**

_**Wilbur: –_– Ignore my sister, she's being weird again ...**_

**TF: Don't worry, I always do.**

**Skye: I heard that!**

**TF: Meant to!**

**?: Has anyone seen my brother?**

_**Wilbur: Brother? I thought you had a sister.**_

**?: I am the sister, genius. There's more ?'s here then you know. So where is he?**

**Skye: Talking to Surge.**

**?: Thank you, GLaDOS! *walks away***

**Skye: ... GLaDOS?**

**TF: *starts cracking up***

* * *

_"Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning." – William Arthur Ward  
_

* * *

_**Stitchpunk Rush**_

_**Chapter 2: Two Heads Are Better Then One**_

Black.

Nothing but endless, eerie, silent black.

2 knew something was wrong with the screen the moment it started flickering weirdly, and that bright explosion had confirmed those beliefs. When 1 disappeared, he had barely any time to collect his thoughts before he felt a rush of hot and cold and plunged into darkness. Then there had been a burst of light and neon colors, and he dimly remembered slamming into something, then a loud screeching sound and a wave of agonizing pain. Then nothing.

Was he dead? 2 remembered what being dead was like all too well, having been the first of the Numbers Clan killed, and this blackness seemed very similar. The BRAIN was horrible. When it had hit him with that beam of light, he didn't know what was happening, just that the pain was overwhelming. It felt like it was tearing into him, ripping him to shreds, and the whole world went dark and silent. Then he could see again, and what he saw was himself, dead. That was when 2 had realized what had happened, that he was a soul, and he had tried to yell at the other Numbers for them to take the Source out of the BRAIN before it fully activated. But they couldn't hear him. They couldn't see him. It was frightening ... knowing that ... that to them, he no longer existed ... he wasn't there ...

The BRAIN, once activated, wasted no time in locking him inside the Source itself, and no matter how hard 2 tried to escape it, there was no way out. Trapped within the BRAIN, he was nothing more then a slave, a mere source of eternal energy it could feed off of and use to fuel it's power to create Beasts and that would capture more souls. Because of it constantly draining his life away, 2 didn't spend much time as a soul awake, usually either unconscious or in a type of fretful sleep. When 8 joined him, 2 began to get worried about the BRAIN's soul power increasing it's strength, and shortly afterward, 5 and 6 were both killed and joined them in the Machine prison.

2 could only hope that one of the remaining Stitchpunks would understand and listen to 6's dying words, or else, there was a very large chance they would be trapped inside the BRAIN for as long as it lasted. Soon, 1 was also trapped with the souls, and the Source was torn free from the Machine by 9's attempt to make it malfunction. Sure enough, without the power of the souls, the BRAIN went into overload to create it's own energy, trying to suck the killed Numbers back inside of it. They used every bit of willpower and what little energy they had left to resist and fight back in a dazzling explosion of green soul light, and it worked, and the BRAIN had been forced to shut down and self-descruct.

But even though it had no longer been using them, they were still trapped inside the Source, and they couldn't break free of it unless somebody punched in the special unlock combination to activate it. Only 6 and 2 were supposed to know it thanks to them getting the largest portion of their Creator's memories, and they were both souls. The combination couldn't work on the inside. So 2 thought that was it. They were dead and stuck inside the tiny circle for the rest of their lives, which was most certainly a long time if souls were really immortal like 6 said.

Only ... that wasn't it. Far from it. When the Source was flooded with light, it had scared 2. He was sure they were dying a third time, or that the BRAIN had somehow gotten them again, or maybe 9 or 7 or the twins were killed. The others thought so too, or at least something similar ... but not 6. He knew what was happening from what the voice said, and he told them. The unlock code had been activated from the outside, and the light meant they were being released. They could go now.

They did. A burst of white light, then color, and they found themselves back in the Emptiness again. And this time, 9 and the others could see them. They couldn't hear them, but they could see, and for 2, that was enough. And after "saying" goodbye, the five fully transformed into their soul forms, released the rain, and found themselves free.

Free.

What happened between the period of the rain release and the resurrection, 2 couldn't remember. None of them, not even 6, could. And maybe it was meant to be. After all, Creator did say that a half-soul couldn't exactly enter the supernatural, but that just made 2 wonder where they had been in that period of time. In the sky? On Earth somewhere? The question would probably remain a mystery, but that was what made life interesting – if you knew everything, what was there to be surprised about? You were constantly making new discoveries, much like inventing new objects, and the flow of knowledge never seemed to end ...

2 pushed away his rambling thoughts, still trying to figure out what was going on and what had happened. The place was pitch black, but there was no red light, meaning neither the BRAIN nor a Beast had him. There wasn't any green light either, so this wasn't the Source. Was there some other term of the word "dead" that he'd missed? And where were the others? Were they okay?

He was suddenly finding himself regretting opening that box. Didn't curiosity kill the cat?

2 abruptly noticed the blackness starting to lighten, fading away gradually, and he finally realized with a jolt what this was. He wasn't dead, he was unconscious! Why was he unconscious? The last time that happened was when he had struck his head after the Cat-Beast literally threw him into a bird-cage, and that had _hurt. _At least he wasn't dead, but being unconscious meant something was wrong. If he could just try to wake up or something ... focusing on the lightening darkness, 2 forced his brass-rimmed optics open and gingerly squinted against the bright light and colors around him, blurred all into one mess. He blinked, his surroundings becoming clear again and sharpening as he focused – then blinked a second time.

_... I must have hit my head harder then I realized, _he thought to himself wryly.

He appeared to be in some kind of room, of which sported the colors dark pink and minty green, with splotches of dark brown and pale pink objects scattered around. A dark pink couch with green pillows stood rather close by, and various, childish paintings were hung on the dark pink walls. The floor was covered by a green, wall-to-wall carpet, matching chairs to the sofa stood around, and a box 2 recognized as a television was set up against the wall in front of the couch. Between the television and the sofa was a dark brown coffee table with a matching, dark brown cloth over it, spotted with pale pink polka-dots, and it was on this 2 was currently lying on.

The leather Stitchpunk blinked again, turning his head to look up at the ceiling, which he noticed was some type of sparkly lamp in the shape of a flame. The movement caused him to also notice his head felt lighter, and he realized with a jolt that his candle hat was gone. It had probably slipped off when he went unconscious earlier, as the strap had never been quite as sturdy as he'd wanted it to be. That was a shame ... he really liked that hat.

Shaking his head, 2 pushed his hands against the table to sit up – and was immediately rewarded with a stab of pain, causing him to gasp slightly and collapse back down. Closing his brass-rimmed eyes, he waited for the pain to go away, more then a little alarmed. First he was unconscious, and now he seemed to be hurt. That couldn't be good, it meant whatever injury he had gotten was serious. Opening his optics, 2 lifted his right arm slightly with a wince, studying it. The wiring in his wrist looked slightly twisted, nothing too serious, it probably just got a little worse from the box incident. What worried him though was the fact his arm was in a somewhat unnatural angle, and he had no feeling in his left leg, both signs screaming at him something was horribly wrong.

2 ran through the possible options in his head. The arm injury looked more familiar, he'd seen 6 with it once, and that was a dislocated elbow. The leg injury, though, he couldn't feel, meaning the nerve wires had probably snapped and needed to be replaced, and if they snapped, there was a high chance his leg was broken. That was fine, it could be fixed, except that 2 himself was the main repairer, and it'd be very hard indeed to repair himself. Maybe 5 could help, he'd taught 5 about these kind of things before, but ... 5 wasn't here. Neither was anybody else. And this certainly wasn't the Library.

2 closed his eyes. "Couldn't life just go easy on me for once?" he muttered.

"Oh, good, you're awake!"

The leather doll opened his eyes at the unfamiliar voice, then blinked and stared at the speaker, who was standing in a nearby doorway. It was a Human. An actual, living, Human Being, a young girl that looked to be nine years old. She had white skin and large, dull green eyes with a wide smile. Her hair was short, and a green that matched her eye color, pulled into two limp pig-tail bunches by a pair of pink, rubber bands. She wore a light brown T-shirt striped with dark brown, over which was an open jacket, light pink and metallic in color. It was edged with darker pink and white, and she had on bright pink, pleated skirt with a pale pink stripe at the bottom. Over her legs were pulled brown stockings with pale pink polka-dots, not unlike the cloth on the table, and black shoes with a pink squiggle across each top was pulled over her feet. On her head sat what looked like a wooden cap, with a pile of sparkly, pink substance over it. In the middle of the substance was an orange and red striped birthday candle, lit with a small flame.

The girl beamed. "I thought you were dead!"

She skipped over, plopping down on the pink sofa, and 2 shirked away slightly. The girl noticed, and her smile faded slightly, replaced by a worrisome look. "Hey ... it's okay. I don't bite."

She leaned down and held out a finger. "My name's Candlehead."

2 stared at her, then reached out with his left hand and held her finger. "I'm 2."

The girl, Candlehead, grinned as her green eyes lit up. "That's the number on your back, right?" she asked.

2 smiled faintly. "Yes, it is, child."

She pulled her finger away, and he looked around as best as he could without moving. "Where am I?" he asked curiously.

Candlehead giggled. "My house! I brought you here. I was driving the Ice Screamer and there was this weird blast of light, so I slammed on the brakes to stop and see what it was. It was gone by the time I stopped, but I guess I accidentally hit you or something because you were on the ground and you weren't moving. So I picked you up and took you here! I only brought you to my living-room because I was afraid to move you, since you look hurt."

_So that explains the screeching sound I heard before blacking out, _2 mused. _It was the brakes. Wait. When could children drive cars?!_

She snapped her fingers. "Oh! And I got this, too!"

The girl pulled something out of her pocket, setting it down on the table. 2 recognized it instantly, and his eyes lit up. "My hat!"

Candlehead shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "I thought you might want it, since it looks like it's yours," she explained shyly. "It was a little broken, so I got some carmel glue and fixed it for you."

2 looked confused. "Carmel glue?"

She looked embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry, marshmallow wouldn't match, and I ran out of chocolate glue two weeks ago and forgot to get more. I hope you don't mind."

He shook his head quickly. "No, no, it's fine, child."

Thoughts were whizzing through his mind at an incredible pace as he tried to process what was going on. All right, first of all, there was a Human Being _right here,_ and all Human Beings had been killed by the Machines and gas during the War, so how had she survived? Farther more, she drove a car – the Ice Screamer? – and knew how to at that, was talking about sweets like they were tools, and had a candle on her head. Of course, he had a candle too, but that was different, he was a doll. Why would a Human have one?

But then again ... now that he looked closely at her, he realized she didn't really _look_ like a Human. Yes, she certainly resembled one, but her head and eyes were too large, giving her a cartoonish appearance, while her hair was green and she only had four fingers on each hand. 2 knew Humans were supposed to have five. At least, that's what Creator had told him when 2 asked why he had five fingers and he himself only had four. It was the way Humans were born. For the Stitchpunks, however, Creator didn't have enough room on their hands to fit a fifth finger, so they had to be content with four.

Creator ... 2 had become so accustomed to calling him that, at least, around the other Stitchpunks. He didn't want to be seen differently if he referred to the Human by what 2 always used to call him before they were sent away ... Father. He didn't even know what "Father" meant, just that, to him, that was what Creator was. But whatever it was, it must have meant something special to Creator. He was just so happy ... but then, those other Humans ...

_Don't go there,_ 2 thought frantically. _Don't think about them. Do not think about them ... about HIM ..._

Shaking his head, he looked back up at the girl and tilted his head slightly. "Are you a Human?"

Candlehead looked surprised and pressed one hand against her chest. "Me?" she asked.

2 nodded, and the girl looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well ... kinda, I guess. I _am _a human being, but not a real one. The programming has me pretty close to being human, although once, I found out my original design had me with green skin! Isn't that weird? Then I'd be an alien or something!"

The leather Stitchpunk tried to process that. "Programming?" he finally managed to say.

Candlehead nodded. "Yup! I'm a video-game character, so the programming is very important! Why?"

2 stared at her in shock. "You're a ... a _v-video-game_ character?"

She nodded again, beaming, and 2 blinked slowly. All right, so if she was a video-game character, then this must be part of a video-game. But why was a game even working? There was no electricity for such things, and even if there was, then how was he even inside such a device ... wait! There was that light! They had been watching that roll of film and– he gasped as everything flooded back. The roll of film! It showed a game that was focused around racing cars and candy! And this girl here had a car, and had to do with candy! Was this the same game? How did he end up here?

Candlehead frowned slightly. "What is it?"

2 looked up at her. "Where _exactly_ am I?"

She smiled. "My house, the Kingdom of Sugar Rush, arcade game Sugar Rush Speedway, Litwak's Family Fun & Arcade Center, America, Earth, year 2012!"

The inventor stared at her, and for a moment considered passing out a second time. The long stretch of silence seemed to alert Candlehead to the fact she had said something off, and she cocked her head. "Is there something wrong with that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

2 closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. "Yes. As a matter of fact, there is, child. First of all, I'm not from a game."

Candlehead looked confused. "You're not? Then where else could you be from?"

He sighed. "The real world, I suppose."

She looked surprised, then even more confused. "Then if you're from the real world, how are you alive and how'd you get here?"

The Stitchpunk shrugged. "It's a very long story, and I think me being here had something to do with that bright light you saw. And also, I'm not from America, nor am I from the year 2012. I'm from England, the year 3049."

Candlehead blinked. "But, um ... England's _really_ far away, and 3049 isn't here yet. That's, like, a thousand years away!"

"I know that," 2 answered gently. "But I'm telling the truth. I and the rest of my clan were watching a roll of film that showed a game that, if I recall correctly, seemed to be this exact one. Then there was a bright light, and I blacked out. Maybe the light sent me back in time somehow – either that, or sent me to the present if I happen to be living in the future and didn't know it."

The green-haired girl looked thoughtful as she turned this information over in her head, then snapped her fingers. "Vanellope!"

The doll cocked his head. "Who?"

Candlehead giggled. "She's the princess/President of Sugar Rush, Vanellope von Schweetz! She has a special ability that allows her to teleport, and since it sounds like you did something similar to teleporting, maybe she'll know what happened. And she might even know whether or not your other clan members ended up here too! It's worth a shot, right?"

2 studied her, then smiled. "It is."

Candlehead tapped her chin. "I'd go tell my best friend, Taffyta, about this, since she lives right next-door to me, but she left a few minutes ago. Looked like she was in a hurry or something. C'mon, I'll use my kart to get us there! I was actually on my way to the see Minty, but this is more important. She can wait, I'll explain everything later!"

She reached out to pick 2 up when he flinched away. "Wait!"

The girl stopped, and he took a deep breath. "Just ... just be careful, please."

She looked sheepish. "Oh, right, I almost forgot. You're hurt. Is it very bad?"

2 paused. "... Bad enough that it's painful and you'll have to be careful."

Candlehead nodded. "Okay, I'll be careful, I promise."

Bending down, she pocketed 2's repaired candle-hat and gently scooped the doll up into her hands. He winced, curling up slightly, then suddenly stopped as he stared at the back of his left hand. He blinked, peering closer to see if he was really seeing what he was seeing. He was. On the back of his steel hand was something that looked like a scratch ... but it looked too neat to be a mere scratch. He'd never seen it before either, and oddly enough, it was almost in the shape of a small flame ... he shook his head. Probably nothing. Candlehead cupped her hands around him protectively as she looked down the the Stitchpunk. "It's all right, we'll be at Vanellope's soon. Maybe your friends are there, too, 2!"

She giggled upon realizing what she had just said, and 2 looked up at her with a faint smile. "I hope so. I certainly hope so ... Candlehead."

Candlehead smiled back.

* * *

_"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up ... Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."_

_Ecclesiastes 4: 9–10 & 12, New International Version (NIV)_

_TF (TFTime)_

_Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator) _

_Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)_

_With guest appearance of a second ?, the sister of the first. She is owned by me and Skye!_


	5. Chapter 3: Three Strikes, You're In!

_**Wilbur: All I can say is that ... I am shocked. Stunned, actually ... at how this chapter went. We were really struggling with the twins because they're mute, so it was difficult to make them interact correctly with these characters, but guess what? This chapter went so well!**_

**TF: Now let's hope the next one will be just as easy! :D Several candy references are going to be made, of different types of candy, so we decided that it'd be best to put up translations so you'd know what means what in candy-terms. Okay? Okay!**

**Mexican-hat-pin (based off of Mexican-hats, that's a candy, I know, weird) – Hat-pin**

**Mrs. Mayo (based off of mayonnaise) – Mrs. May**

**Kit-Kate (based off of Kit-Kats) – Kate**

**Borrowscotch (based off of butterscotch) – Borrower**

**Mary-Em Neccoton (based off of M&M's and Necco Wafers) – Mary Norton**

**Blue Macocoa (based off of cocoa) – Blue Macaw**

**Skye: Yeah, we slipped in references to Rio and The Borrowers, couldn't help it! So, read, review, and enjoy! Things are gonna start unravelling pretty soon, so stay tuned! :)**

**TF: And apparently, one of the Numbers knows something about what's happening ... doesn't take to much imagination to guess who.**

_**?: Excuse me?**_

**TF: Yes?**

_**?: Have you see McShiny? I can't find him.**_

**TF: McShiny ...?**

_**Wilbur: Rock. Her pet rock.**_

**Skye: Jewel, actually.**

_**Wilbur: Still a rock.**_

**TF: O.O Um, no, I haven't ...**

**_?: Awww ... Miss Shiny?_**

**TF: *face-palm* And author's note – references to 3's reason of why he can't project are based on mentioned events in Quille's "Fever" story. However, 6 isn't sick (or dying) in this story, so that's good! I don't own WiR, 9, "Fever", or the Borrowers! Only the story!**

* * *

_"Being a good teammate is when you try to sprint down a ball that everyone thinks is going out of bounds. But you go after it anyways, and you get it." – Mia Hamm**  
**_

* * *

_**Stitchpunk Rush**_

_**Chapter 3: Three Strikes, You're In!**_

_THUD!_

3 yelped out as he hit a brown surface, tumbling head-over-heels on the smooth platform, then finally slid to a stop, face-down. He raised his head, spitting out splinters of the surface that had gotten in his mouth, then wiped his face with one arm, shaking his head. Clicking softly, he sat up and looked around, and his eyes widened. He appeared to be on top of some kind of cabinet or dresser, which was only ten or so inches from touching the cream-colored ceiling, and the tops of dozens of other cabinets spread out all around him in a sea of smooth, brown wood.

The blue Stitchpunk blinked, giving a questioning click. Where was the Library? The projector? The other clan members? 4? 4! Where was 4?!

He felt a wave of panic rush over him and scrambled to his feet, darting over to the edge of the cabinet and looking down. Far below, 3 could see a dark red carpet, with tables and cream-upholstered chairs scattered about. And books. So many books! They were piled on the tables, draped over chairs, filling up the sea of cases around him! Was this a library? It had to be, it looked so much like the one they lived in, only ... neater. And it smelled nicer. Like ... candy?

He stared down at the scratched, brown surface, then raised a steel hand and dragged his fingers across it. The brown peeled off into little shavings, and the twin scooped them up, holding the shavings up to his white face. His eyes flashed as he ran through the millions of data pictures stored in his mind, and he frowned. Wait a moment ... this wasn't wood, this was ... chocolate?

Chocolate. Cho–co–late. Noun. A food preparation in the form of a paste or solid block made from roasted and ground cacao seeds, typically sweetened. At least, according to the New Oxford American Dictionary. 3 dropped the shavings hurriedly as they started to melt on his hand, wiping the brown liquid off against the side of his blue cloth, then peered down over the edge of the bookcase again. All right, so the white light must have something to do with the fact he was on top of a chocolate bookshelf. Matter of fact, why was a bookshelf made out of chocolate?

Perhaps he'd gotten teleported into a different world or dimension or time-line. He and 4 had read enough sci-fi books like that, like _The Engines of Dawn_ or _Gridlinked_ or _Hyperion_ or _Jumper_ or _One Step From Earth_ or ... 3 stopped going through his data information of teleportation books once he reached _The Fly_ and shuddered. Hopefully, this kind of teleportation, if this _was_ teleportation and not a weird dream or some kind, would be nothing like that. Creator, that book was freaky ...

Still, he was somewhere else. Without the others. Without 4. He needed to find 4! Clicking worriedly to himself, 3 swung his legs over the side of the bookshelf edge and carefully slipped off, lowering himself down by grabbing the edge with his steel fingers. Looking down from his hanging position, 3 spotted a shelf not too far down and let go. He plummeted through the air before landing on his feet on the chocolate shelf with a thud, and he looked around. This was defiantly a bookshelf, the shelves were _filled _books! For a moment, the Stitchpunk twin considered stopping to at least look through the titles, but thoughts of 4 quickly made him shove that away. Being twins, they were never apart, and when they were, it was always first priority to find the other again.

Sitting down and swinging his legs over the edge of the shelf, 3 lowed himself and let go, repeating his movements as he gradually descended down the piece of furniture. After around fifteen minutes of doing that, 3 felt his feet hit the fuzzy, towel-like surface of the red carpet, and smiled. Now he could finally look for 4! Looking around at the towering tables and chairs, he clicked softly, eyes flashing as he took a few pictures, then spun around and darted off in the opposite direction he had come in. Weaving between the legs of several chairs and down a hallway, he stopped and listened attentively for any sound that might signify a sign of life.

There was silence, then ... a still, soft _wsht. _3 perked up. A page turning! Farther down the hall! The doll clicked excitedly before bolting down the hall, staying close to the shadowed bookcases in case something unfriendly was ahead. Never could be too careful ... nearing the end of the hall, he pressed his back against the cases and took a deep breath, then warily peeked out. His steel-rimmed eyes widened instantly, and he gave a silent gasp, covering his mouth. The area beyond the hall he was hiding in appeared to be another reading nook, with chairs and tables scattered around and books piled into stacks nearby. 4 was nowhere in sight, but sitting at one of the tables, reading a book, was a ...

A Human? How could that be possible? They were all extinct!

3's eyes flashed as he took a picture, then rummaged through his catalogues concerning Human Beings. The results that came up confused the twin. In many ways, the thing sure _seemed _like a Human, but in others, it wasn't.

The person appeared to be a nine-year-old female, a girl, and had darkly tanned skin with large, hazel-brown eyes. Her hair was short and cropped to reach just under her chin, neatly trimmed, and was neon-green in color, her eyebrows a darker green. She was wearing a dull yellow T-shirt with darker yellow stripes and a few green and orange polka-dots up near her neckline. Over that, she wore a neon-green jacket that was the same color as her hair, and sported white, racer stripes up the zipper sides and arms. It was open, revealing the T-shirt underneath, and had transparent, lime-green ruffles at the sleeves with a golden stripe. The person was wearing a transparent, also lime-green, ruffled skirt with a matching gold stripe across the bottom, and dark green leggings. Over the leggings were a pair of what appeared to be knit, thick, light green socks with two dark green squiggles around them and sporting a bright yellow line at the top and bottom. Her shoes were a shiny, plain black, and in her hair was a bright yellow headband, on the headband a huge, transparent, lime-green bow edged with gold stripes, almost looking like a wrapped candy.

The girl looked to be reading from a thick, red book, and was mumbling to herself. 3 cocked his hooded head. Why was it – or she, he supposed – mumbling? There was obviously nobody else there, and she didn't look like the type to do things like that, like 6 would. Crouching down, he quickly darted across the fuzzy carpet and up to the table the girl was sitting at, hiding behind one of the legs hastily. Luckily, she hadn't seen him, she was concentrating on printed words lying before her. 3 looked up at her, listening attentively.

" ... 'Well, there were two reasons, really. A Mexican-hat-pin is a very useful weapon, and –' Mrs. Mayo laughed suddenly. '–but it all sounds such nonsense, and–' she hesitated. '–it was all so very long ago!'" the girl read out loud.

3 cocked his head curiously. Funny, what she was reading sounded familiar, but ... he just ... couldn't ... place it ... "'But, tell me,' said Kit-Kate. 'Tell me, how did you _know _about the Mexican-hat-pin? Did you ever see one?'" the girl continued. "Mrs. Mayo threw her a startled glance. 'Well, yes–' she began. 'Not a Mexican-hat-pin!' exclaimed Kit-Kate impatiently. 'A whatever-you-called-them – a Borrowscotch?'"

The twin smiled. Ah, that's what she was reading! It was that novel from the human author Mary Norton, _The Borrowers,_ first published in 1982. 3 had read that before, it was a good book – English, too – but suddenly, he found himself growing confused, and he frowned, cocking his head. Wait a moment ... he'd read _The Borrowers_ before, and he was fairly certain those weren't the right words. Close, but not exact. Was this some rare copy or printing he had never heard of? The thought of an unread book made 3 force himself to stay hidden, although he was longing to just shimmer up the table leg, jump on top of the pages, and start drinking in the neat, black lettering, the paper crinkling underneath his steel fingers, then images of the pages being catalogued behind his optics ...

_Thud!_

The blue-glove twin was jerked out of his daydream as a small, lime-green ball rolled out of the girl's jacket pocket and hit the ground. It bounced away as she looked down, banging against a pile of books nearby and rolling underneath a dark brown bookcase, vanishing. The Being groaned and pushed her chair away from the table, standing up, and 3 quickly ducked behind the table leg as she walked over to the bookcase. He watched curiously as she got down on her hands and knees, tilting her head to look under the case. Pursing her lips, the girl stuck one hand into the opening between the shelves and the carpeted floor, straining to reach the ball as she groped to grab it. Her fingers lightly brushed one side, causing it to roll even farther away, and the green-haired girl frowned. "Oh, fudge ..." she murmured, sitting upright

The Human Being crossed her arms and looked up at the cream ceiling. "What to do, what to do ..."

3 looked up at her, then down at the floor, where he could see the lime-green ball reflecting slightly in it's dark hiding place. He clicked questioningly, tilting his white head to one side as he looked back up at the girl. For some reason, she didn't want to leave the ball ... why? She borrowed it from someone somewhere? She owned it herself? Sedimental reasons? Just a neat person that didn't leave objects strewn all over the floor? 3 paused. He should really be looking for 4 again, but the girl looked like she could use some help ...

Taking a deep breath, the hooded Stitchpunk darted out from underneath the table and, sprinting back the green and yellow-clothed Human, slid under the bookcase and into the shadows, vanishing in a blur of blue cloth. The girl gasped, dropping down to the floor again to peer under where he had gone, one brown eye meeting 3's glowing, white optics. Being on his stomach from the slide, 3 rolled over and scrambled to his feet, giving a small sneeze from the irritating, brown dust that had risen from his entrance. Interesting, it looked like chocolate, too ... cocoa powder, to be exact. If he didn't know any better, 3 would assume at this point that he was in the board game _Candyland._

3 shook his head, silently reminding himself why he was down here, and quietly crept up to the ball, clicking his tongue as his eyes flashed, taking pictures of it as he catalogued the object. It was indeed a bright green ball, with a smooth, shiny texture, almost as if coated in a clear glaze of some sugary substance. His readings showed it to be a type of edible food called a "gum-ball", a sweet classified in the section of candy. The usage was to suck or chew on it, softening the ball until it was able to stretch into a flavored bubble until it popped, then eventually throw it away.

Rather useless type of thing if all you did was taste it and blow bubbles out of your mouth, but hey, Humans were strange themselves. At least, what little 3 knew about them was. Placing his steel hands against the gum-ball, 3 shoved it forward as hard as he could, almost stumbling to the ground as it lurched ahead, rolling back out from under the case and into the light. The girl's face lit up, and she snatched the ball, pocketing the object once again and this time zippering it closed, then looked back down underneath the bookcase. "Hello?" she called softly.

3 just stood there, steel-rimmed eyes watching her from the dark shadows cloaking him, and the girl pulled her head away. "Are they really real ...?" she mumbled thoughtfully.

He chuckled as he realized she was talking about Borrowscotches, or Borrowers as he knew them. Tiny people, they were, most likely as small or smaller then he himself. 3 always thought it'd be nice for those to have been real, to meet people their size that weren't made out of cloth and wire and metal. 4 did, too. Being twins, they shared a lot of opinions, if not all. But him? A Borrow-whatever? Defiantly not, he wasn't a flesh-and-blood being, and never would be. He didn't borrow things, either. That was 5's or 2's thing, and even then, they _took_ things, not borrowed them. Everyone was dead anyway, it's not like they'd mind or have any use for it ...

The girl looked under the bookcase again. "Hey ... c'mon out. Please? I won't hurt you ..."

The twin paused, then carefully crept forward, towards her brown eyes, and emerged from underneath the case and into the light. The girl gasped, jumping back in shock, wide-eyed, and 3 shook the cocoa powder off of his cloth before folding his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his steel heels as he waited for her to do or say something interesting.

She did.

The Human slowly blinked, then looked 3 up and down and raised an eyebrow, giving a shrill whistle. "... You are _not_ a Borrowscotch."

3 smiled up at her, giggling, and the girl seemed to relax as she bent her head down, smiling as her green hair swayed. "Awww ... you're actually kinda cute!" she cooed, using one finger to pet 3's hooded head. "Hiya, little guy!"

He purred, closing his optics at her touch blissfully. His one weakness, besides new items and books, was getting petted. Especially on his head. He loved that. The girl pulled her tan finger away and offered it to 3. "My name's Minty Zaki."

The Stitchpunk opened his eyes and reached out, grabbing hold of her finger with both of his claw-like hands, and shook it, eyes flashing as he clicked rapidly. He then pointed to the number "3" inked onto the right side of his chest, and the Human, Minty, looked curious. "3? Is that your name?" she asked.

3 hopped up and down, nodding and clicking as he grinned excitedly, and Minty smiled at his reaction to her getting his name right. She suddenly frowned. "Hey, um ... can you even talk?"

He stopped hopping, grin fading, then sighed as he pointed to his metal throat and shook his head. Minty bit her lower lip, sitting back on her knees. "Oh ..."

There was a pause, when she looked back at the table, then lit up and turned to look down at 3. "Do you wanna read with me? Together?"

3's optic eyes lit up in excitement, then faded as he remembered that he was supposed to be looking for 4 and the rest of his family. He couldn't do that if he was reading, much as he'd like to, but ... he suddenly had a thought. Maybe Minty knew something about their vanishing! She could help him! Scampering forward, he tugged on the edge of her transparent skirt and clicked hurriedly, his eyes flashing and streaming light in Morse code. Minty looked confused. "What?"

3 mentally face-palmed. She couldn't understand him, she didn't know Morse code. Why was it that it seemed like only 2 and 7 had ever actually taken the time to learn it? It couldn't be THAT hard ... now, of course, he had to tell her about his clan without using it. He would have projected the information to her, but he couldn't do that, the projecting area inside of him was broken, rendered useless after he got a high fever some thirty years back, thanks to his inner fan not working. At least he could still use light flashes, but the damage was unrepairable. The fever had been crippling. He'd never be able to project like he used to ever again. Which he was annoyed at at the moment, Creator knows how much she'd understand if she could only _see_ what he was "talking" about ...

He looked around, then turned his back to her and dropped to his knees, dragging one finger across the fuzzy surface of the carpet very much like 6. His steel finger left an indent in the cloth, and he grinned, clicking/purring softly. The doll then wrote in large letters a single, speak-for-itself word.

**_"LOST."_**

Minty looked over his shoulder at what he had written, and 3 looked up at her, pointing at the word. The green girl looked worried. "Lost? You mean, you're lost?"

3 nodded, and she paused. "Well ... do you have a family or something, somebody to find?"

3 nodded again and erased the **_"LOST"_**, instead writing, **_"YES. 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, A__ND__ 9."_**

The Human smiled. "Oh, there's ones that are numbered like you, too?" she giggled.

The twin beamed up at her, and Minty flopped down on her stomach besides him, resting her chin in her tan hands. "Mm, okay, let me get this straight," she said thoughtfully. "You're lost, and you can't find your family of these other number people, right?"

He nodded, and she tapped her mouth. "So ... we just have to find them! They can take you back home, right, little guy?"

3 pointed to his number, and Minty nodded. "3, right, your name's 3."

She looked around. "Any _idea_ where you live, at least?"

He erased the words and wrote, **_"THE LIBRARY. LONDON, ENGLAND, YEAR 3049."_**

Minty read the new words, and her brow furrowed. "Year 3049 ...? We don't have a game that goes into that year. I mean, _Disney's Meet the Robinsons_ goes into 2037, and _Hero's Duty_ goes into 2500, and _Sonic the Hedgehog_ even goes into 6215! But not 3049 ..."

She looked down at him. "What's the name of your game?"

3 stared at her in shock, blinked, then erased the wording yet again and scribbled, **_"GAME?"_**

Minty nodded. "Yeah, your game! This is an arcade, silly, everyone's part of a game!"

She suddenly looked thoughtful. "... Well, except for Surge and the Firewalls, but those are softwares, not exactly game characters ..."

3's mouth dropped open slightly, and he looked around with wide, steel-rimmed optics. Game? Game characters? Arcade? This was ... an ARCADE? Meaning he was inside of an actual GAME?! Okay, that was it, he'd defiantly gotten teleported into another world. Most likely, the others had gotten teleported with him thanks to that weird, white light, and they'd probably be separated like he was. That wouldn't do. He needed Minty to help him find his family and, most important, his twin. 3 wiped out the word and wrote, **_"NOT GAME. REAL WORLD. TELEPORTED HERE."_**

The girl stared at the writing, shocked, and raised an eyebrow. "You ... but ... I ... that ..." she stammered, speechless.

3 waited for her answer, and Minty finally shook her head quickly, short, green hair swaying as she held up her hands. "Okay. You're from the real world, so you're even more lost then I thought, and you can't find your family in here?" she asked.

3 shrugged, obviously saying "pretty much". Minty gave a small laugh, running her fingers – which were four instead of five, 3 noticed with interest – through her trimmed hair. "Why am I not surprised?" she murmured, smiling, then frowned. "Why _AM_ I not surprised?"

She suddenly sat bolt upright and snapped her fingers, brown eyes gleaming. "That's it!" she exclaimed excitedly, looking down at 3. "We can go see the ruler of our game, President Vanellope! She can do teleporting stuff, surely she'd know what happened! And plus, your family, whoever they are, might have gone there, too!"

The blue doll squealed, clapping his hands, and Minty grinned. "All right then, it's settled! I was supposed to meet Candlehead here, but she seems to be running late. I'm sure she won't mind if I'm not here for an hour or so, and besides, she might not even come. She's very forgetful. I'll take you to see Vanellope, 'kay?"

3 clicked in agreement, smiling widely, then wiped out out his words and scrambled to his feet. He ran up to Minty, leaping onto her lap, and she started in surprise as he grabbed hold of her jacket, nimbly climbing up the white zipper to pull himself onto her shoulder. The twin perched there, grabbing onto the neck of her jacket for safety, and Minty turned her head to face him as she giggled. "It feels like I have a Blue Macocoa on my shoulder or something!" she laughed.

3 giggled back, rolling his optics, and Minty smiled. "Oh, by the way, thanks for getting that gum-ball for me. It was a birthday gift from one of my sisters, Sticky, and I'd hate to lose it."

He nodded in understanding, and the Human got to her feet, dusting the cocoa dust off of herself. "All righty, then, we'd better go see the President! Hang on!"

He obediently tightened his grip on her jacket, and Minty ran back to the table, slamming closed the book she was reading and allowing 3 to catch a glimpse of the title. _The Borrowscotches, by Mary-Em Neccoton._ He snickered, covering his mouth with his right hand. No wonder it was different from what he remembered, it was the candy version, duh. The doll suddenly stopped, then frowned as he pulled his hand away, turning it over to stare at the back. He cocked his white head, giving a questioning click.

On the steel of his hand was some kind of scratch ... it was shaped exactly like the sun, even with wavy lines coming from it, and almost appeared to have been purposely placed there. That was strange ... he didn't remember seeing it on his hand before ...

Pushing the chair back up against the table, Minty then turned and sprinted out into the halls the leave the chocolate-bookcase library, intent on finding this "president" she knew of. 3 hoped she wasn't like the Chancellor. The doll's eyes flashed as he catalogued the mark, then ran through pictures of his hand. Nothing. His hand was normal in these other photos, no scratches other then the usual gained by living in a destroyed world.

He then noticed something in his flood of photos and quickly rewound. December 12, 3017. 3 remembered that. That was the day he'd woken up and the fever was gone, after, of course, 5 and 2 had to do an operation to get his inner fan working again. The photo was taken at a sideways angle, so he must've still been lying down, and he could see the other Numbers. 4 was running into the room, about to hug his twin in relief, and 7 and 5 were watching from nearby, grinning. 8, gruff as ever, was nonetheless nodding a greeting to 3, while 1 rolled his narrow optics. 3 also didn't fail to miss 2, who was rolling up 3's blue-prints, shoot 1 a scolding look. 9 was nowhere to be seen because, of course, they didn't even know he existed yet at the time.

3 studied the photo with a soft sigh. The memories of that were certainly happy, to know he was going to live and be okay, but ... what exactly _had_ caught his attention in the first place? He scanned the photo a second time, then abruptly noticed 6 was there too, in one of the shadowed corners and eyeing 8, like he was prone to do in the larger Stitchpunk's presence. 3 really couldn't blame him, either. Then the blue twin frowned as he saw something else, and his optics widened as he gasped softly.

In his right hand, 6 was holding several scraps of ink-covered paper, most likely drawings he had done at the time. But what caught 3's attention was that on the paper was ... a sun. A round sun, with wavy lines emitting from it. Exactly like the scratch on the back of his hand. 3 raised his hand again to study it, just to make sure, then looked back at the photo within his mind. It was blurry, but the image was clearly there. And there were others ... hard to see, because of the blurred pixels and the position the drawing had, crumbled in 6's sharp fingers, but ... one looked like a flame on the right side ... and then there were three lines fanning out at the left ...

He had to find 4. Since he was still recovering at the time, that was the only picture he'd taken for the rest of the week, so any other images of the drawing probably didn't exist. By the time he'd have started cataloguing again, 6 would've hidden it. Back before 9 came, 6 always did that with his older drawings, because 1 would order 8 to destroy them since they "wasted space". Which was stupid, they were drawings, the Sanctuary had plenty of room, but that never stopped 8 from taking pleasure in confiscating and burning them. Several bonfires later, 6 made sure to hide them someplace nobody could find, which got him yelled at by 1, but the images were safe. Until the Sanctuary burned up, anyway ...

Maybe 4 had some photos of that drawing before 6 most likely hid it. 4 always caught what 3 missed, and vice versa. It was possible his twin might still have photographs of whatever the Stitchpunk had drawn there. 3's white brow furrowed within his blue hood. 6. 6 had drawn that, so he couldn't help but wonder ...

Did 6 know something?

He _so_ had to find 4 ...

* * *

_"Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others."_

_Philippians 2: 4, New King James Version (NKJV)_

_TF (TFTime)_

_Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator) _

_Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)_

_With guest appearance of a third ?, who we also do not own. And she owns the shiny ... things ..._


	6. Chapter 4: Four By Four

**TF: Well, I have to admit, I was very worried that I wouldn't give the twins chapters that were long enough, but over 12,000 words for both of them?! No worries! :D That's almost as much as the four previous chapters to them have been! I suppose they're so long because the twins remember a lot, and much of what they're remembering are vital parts in the story, so I take my time.**

_**Wilbur: *eyes narrow* I noticed. You almost forgot about TPKR.**_

**TF: I didn't almost forget about it, I had temporary Writer's Block paired with FanFickle's font problems!**

**Skye: *blinks* FanFickle?**

**TF: *shrugs* That's what I call this place when I have problems with it. -_-**

**Skye: ... Okay ...**

**Mystery: *holds up paper* What's this?**

**TF: *gasps, snatches it away* T- I mean, Mystery, you aren't supposed to read this! This is a secret three-shot that only Sticky, Lily, and Aoi know about!**

**Mystery: It has my catchphrase in it!**

**TF: Yeah, well, you technically didn't exist yet, so that was a coincidence.**

**Mystery: ... And 6 seeing a tenth one ...?**

**TF: ... Why am I explaining myself to you?**

**Mystery: *pumps fist* YES! I win!**

**Skye: *snickers***

_**Wilbur: *crosses arms, looks away* No comment.**_

**Skye: Besides, the story's already released, and almost complete! So, yeah, check out "Special Kind of Different"! And review! We have over five hundred viewer's and barely one percent even reviewed! Reviews are fuel! Want more updates, just click the little box down below and write something, it'll only take thirty seconds or less of our life! :)**

* * *

_"God bless you if you have one child, but I don't think anybody should have just one child. Everybody needs a sibling. I have siblings, and I have so many amazing, precious memories with my siblings. I don't know what I would do if I had been an only child." – Sherri Shepherd_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Four By Four**

_FLASH!_

4 silently screamed as the white light vanished, and he slammed into a dark red slope before tumbling down, head over heels in a blur of blue cloth. Flinging out his arms to try and grab hold of something, anything, to stop his descent, the Stitchpunk met only with air. In a desperate attempt, he dug his steel fingers into the red, dirt-like ground, stopping the rolling and leaving deep impressions in the soil, the doll instead still rapidly sliding down the steep ground. His left hand abruptly struck something hard, and 4 yelped out as he went flying from the sudden stop, slamming into the ground again on his back and staring up at the sky, panting slightly.

Well ... that was certainly unexpected.

Propping himself up on one elbow, the twin looked around, his optics scanning over the scenery surrounding him. He appeared to be at the bottom of some kind of gorge, similar to the Grand Canyon, a deep red in color with lighter and darker striped across the walls – like layers. The sky was bright blue, spotted with pink clouds for some reason, and there was a cheerful, blazing sun high overhead. The bottom of the canyon itself was a dark, velvet-red, and on top of the chasm walls were lined up huge ... gum-ball machines?

4 rubbed his optics and looked again. Those were defiantly gum-ball machines, on bright-red pedestals with gigantic, glass domes that held hundreds of huge, colorful, round gum-balls that looked as big as a car. That was big, almost as big as the BRAIN, so the machines had to be pretty huge themselves. And what were they even doing up there, anyway? He suddenly gasped, optics widening as he whipped his head around frantically. 3! 3 was gone! Where was 3?! He scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over a white rock in the ground that was speckled with rainbow dots, and ran out to the middle of the canyon floor. _3!_ he flashed out in Morse Code.

He was starting to hyperventilate, in a kind of doll-like way since Stitchpunks really had no reason to breath and simply did it out of instinct, panicking as everything hit him. The Library was gone, the books were gone, the Numbers were gone, 3! 3 was gone! Where was he?! Was he okay?! 4 tried to calm himself, grabbing his hooded head as he snapped shut his steel-rimmed eyes, taking deep breaths.

Out of the two twins, 3 was the braver one. The calmer one. The one that wouldn't freak out and would think things through logically and practically. 4? Not so much. He was easily frightened when left alone, extremely attached to 3, going to him when he needed comfort, and would fly into a panic when they got separated. Which was what he was doing right now. Panicking. And while 3 was good at planning, 4 was _defiantly_ good at panicking. Of course, 4 had his good points, he wasn't a hopeless scaredy-cat, and 3 would panic as well if he couldn't find 4. It's just that 4 wasn't as good at hiding his feelings as 3 was. He was a very open soul, sometimes too open, resulting in it being easy to "read him like a book".

He didn't find that very bad. Anything with books had to be nice.

The twin exhaled through his mouth and opened his eyes. Okay. Apparently, that white light had something to do with this. Everything had been normal, fine, then the screen started acting up, and there was this burst of white light, filled with electromagnetic energy. They all knew what electromagnetic energy was. That's how the Seamstress ... he decided not to recall farther. So, there was the energy, and 1 was gone, then 2, then 3 and him. It probably looked like the twins vanished the same instant to the other Numbers, but 4 knew better, he'd "gone" a millisecond after 3. And ended up here. So the white light probably had something to do with this colorful place. Of course! It probably transported the Numbers Clan into another dimension, and the white light was some kind of portal! 4 couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realizing how stupid that sounded. To top it off, they were on Mars, at the center of the planet in the far past, had to escape using kick-awesome super-powers that didn't exist, and defeat deadly Machine hybrids and evil versions of themselves!

4 giggled to himself, mood lightening upon creating that _extremely_ random dash of humor to his problem. Still, this defiantly seemed to be another dimension, and 4 had no doubt that that was true. Stranger things had happened in the world ... if this even was the same world, which he doubted it was. The ground looked a bit too sparkly to be normal, as well ... now why was that? He bent down on one knee and touched the red soil, then lifted his steel hand and studied his fingers. The sparkles were on them now, too. They were opaque, kinda shaped like tiny crystals, and had a gritty feel to them. 4 tried to recall where he'd seen that as he quickly catalogued the sparkles. There was something similar to this stuff – salt – but this couldn't be salt, salt was always shaped like cubes. And why would salt be on the ground, anyway? Maybe it was a mineral like salt, since it was shiny, or perhaps confetti ...

A dull, faint, droning sound reached 4's hearing, making the twin stiffen as he whipped his head around, dropping the tiny crystals to stare out at the far end of the gorge to his right. He hadn't noticed it before, but the gorge ended at that point in a huge, white road, with pink mountains towering in the distance, accompanied by a white castle on a far-off hill. The droning sound seemed to be coming from that direction, becoming louder every moment ... 4 squinted. What ... was something ... was something _moving_ out there? Was it a Beast? He quickly stood up, standing on tip-toe as he used one hand to shade his eyes, peering out at the white road. In the distance, whizzing on the pale surface, was something blue in color. No, not blue, more aqua, maybe teal with a bit of white, it was hard to tell, but since it was heading right towards him, it appeared–

4 did a double-take and gasped, steel-rimmed optics widening in horror. It was heading towards him. _TOWARDS_ him! Oh, Creator, he had to get out! Spinning around, 4 bolted for the gorge wall he'd just tumbled down, hoping and praying maybe a portal was there that could take him back or something, when his foot hit something and he tripped, colliding with the red dirt in a silent yelp of surprise and pain. Oh, Life had to be kidding him at the moment ... did he _seriously_ just trip?!

He winced, getting to his hands and knees, and shook his head dizzily, wiping the sparkles off his white face with one arm. The droning sound suddenly faded off, and 4 turned his head to see that the aqua-colored object was no longer in sight. He cocked his head in confusion. Where had it gone? Had it just decided to leave him alone or something? 4 frowned slightly. No, that couldn't be it, total silence after noise was far too familiar. It meant whatever was the cause of the noise was, in their world, waiting for you to relax before they attacked and tried to kill you.

**_VROOOOOOOOOOOM!_**

A huge, aqua-colored object shot up from the hill leading towards the gorge and slammed into the red ground, circular wheels at the bottom moving in a blur as the object, some kind of car, shot forward, barreling down the canyon – and straight at 4. 4's optics widened in horror, and he desperately willed his legs to get up, move, flee, run, anything! But they couldn't. He could just watch, frozen in fear, as the car-thing raced right at him ... this was just a bad dream! This wasn't real! He had to wake up! He'd wake up and find himself next to 3 again in their little scarf nest inside the hollow globe, and 8'd be sharpening his weapons on guard again while everyone else would be asleep, except for 2, who'd probably be up late studying unless he happened to doze off – which he did often, the twins could attest to that – and 3 would wake up with him, and he'd tell 3 his nightmare, and his brother would tell him it was okay, nothing was real, it was just a silly dream ...

A silly dream which had a very high chance of killing him at the moment.

4 opened his mouth in a silent scream. _3!_ he flashed out.

Instantly, the car fish-tailed with a shrill screeching sound as a female voice screamed something unintelligible, the object skidding right towards 4's face. Several more seconds, it would defiantly hit him. He'd always wondered how cars could run over animals when he read such articles about things like that happening before the War of the Machines. Sure, he'd been curious, but never exactly wanted to find out what road-kill was like personally. Would he just get lucky and be thrown back? Or would it smash him into a million pieces, or snap his back, or crush him? What if the others never found out what happened to him? What about 3? How would he react to finding out his twin was ... dead? 4 snapped his optics closed, turning his head to one side as he raised his right arm to protect himself, and braced himself for the impact.

It never came.

A gritty substance got thrown over 4's blue, cloth body, and the screeching broke off like a snapped, dry twig, silence filling the once panicked air. 4 carefully opened one eye and, turning his head, stared at the shiny, aqua wheel just centimeters from his face, red dust floating in the air. Dirt was sprinkled over himself, explaining the gritty feeling, which must have been caused by the wheel coming to such an abrupt stop that it dug a rut into the ground, throwing up soil that ended up at 4. The twin breathed outward in relief. Well, at least it was the soil on him and not the wheel. Slowly lowering his arm, 4 reached out and timidly tapped the shiny, blue object before him. He was rewarded by a soft clink, and the doll made a similar click with his metal tongue, tilting his head.

The entire car thing, which was huge compared to 4's barely-five-inch stature, was a glistening, teal blue – or aqua blue, Creator, those two were so alike – that shone in the bright sunlight emitting from overhead, giving off reflections of it's surroundings. The doll scooted away from the wheel a bit to give himself some personal space and better see the foreign object that almost crashed into him. Although it was a bit difficult to see properly from his down-there viewpoint, 4 could make out a ruffled, teal and peach overhanging in the back, a bit like a candy-wrapper used in the really old days of the Humans. The ones that were twisted closed at the ends. The car was entirely aqua, as he decided the color was, with a white blossom on the hubcap of each wheel, making it actually look kind of pretty compared to it's overall simplicity.

But it didn't quite look like it was made out of metal, nor did it feel like metal. It had a hard, yet yielding feel to it, smooth, slippery underhand, and reminded 4 very much of 2's candles. Only, this wasn't a candle, it didn't look like one, it was a car. Maybe it was plastic. Pure plastic was very rare in London, due to most of it having been destroyed in the war, and the Scientist never used plastic for his creations, deeming it too fragile, easily broken or melted. As a matter of fact, those rolls of video-film was probably the largest amount of plastic-based objects any of the Numbers, including 4, had ever seen. Probably because it was from America. But maybe this wasn't plastic, maybe it was something else, like quartz or fiberglass. And there was this overpowering smell coming from it, not bad or unpleasant, just strange. It smelled like salt water taffy.

Why salt water taffy?

There was a slamming sound, and 4 whipped his hooded head around just as a figure stepped into his range of view for the first time. The two froze, staring at each other with wide eyes and slightly open mouths, and 4 immediately knew what she was. A Human Being. An actual Human Being, standing right there in front of him, despite Humans being extinct. The Human was a nine-year-old female girl, and had lightly tanned skin with large, deep brown eyes. Her hair was short and cropped to reach just under her chin, neatly trimmed, and was dark aqua, maybe teal, in color, her eyebrows black. She was wearing a pale cream T-shirt with bright yellow stripes and a few aqua and yellow polka-dots up near her neckline.

Over that, she wore a bright aqua jacket that was the same color as her hair, and sported white, racer stripes up the zipper sides and arms. It was open, revealing the T-shirt underneath, and had transparent, neon-aqua ruffles at the sleeves with a dark teal stripe. The person was wearing a transparent, also neon-aqua, ruffled skirt with a matching teal stripe across the bottom, and dark teal leggings. Over the leggings were a pair of what looked to be knit, thick, light aqua socks with two dark aqua squiggles around them and sporting a neon pink line at the top and bottom. Her shoes were a shiny, plain black, and in her hair was a neon pink headband, on the headband a huge, transparent, aqua bow edged with teal stripes, looking exactly like a wrapped salt water taffy. For some reason, she seemed oddly familiar ...

This was a predicament. 4 didn't know whether to run up to the Being and start cataloguing her or to get up and run as fast and as far away from her as possible. None of the Numbers Clan had ever had any personal contact with any Humans except for Scientist, with the one exception of 2, but that was unplanned, the Scientist _never_ meant for that to happen. That was what worried 4. The twins were really the only ones who knew of that particular incident, quietly dubbed "the Mischance", so they knew what happened, so ... would this Human be the same? Would she think of 4 badly or even ... hurt him? Maybe take him? Try to kill him?

The girl blinked slowly, as if recovering from her shock, then cocked her head at 4 before stepping closer to him, and the doll stiffened, giving a yelp of alarm as he tried to scramble away frantically. He lost his balance, falling onto his back with a thud, then struggled back into a sitting position before scooting back, steel optics wide as he regarded the Human fearfully. Her face softened, and she stopped, instead kneeling down on the red ground. "Shhhh ..." she whispered softly, comfortingly, and held out a finger. "It's okay ... I won't hurt you."

4 stared at her, and the girl smiled gently. "Promise."

Promise. Prom-ise. Both noun and verb. A declaration or assurance that one will do a particular thing, or that guarantees that a particular thing will happen. Well, that certainly sounded ... promising.

The twin looked down at her tan hand, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. Then, very slowly and carefully, he shifted from his sitting position to a kneeling one and reached out, timidly touching her outstretched finger. The Human giggled, aqua hair bobbing, and 4 couldn't help but giggle a little back, his worry dissipating in an instant. This person didn't seem like a threat at all, he could feel it. She felt nice, and curious, and playful, and free ... like him! A kindred soul embodied in a Human Being!

4 hugged her finger, nuzzling it like an affectionate puppy, and the girl started laughing, stooping down so that her face was level with 4's. The doll hoisted himself to his feet using her finger, then clicked excitedly as he started scurrying back and forth in front of her, reaching up to poke her skin or pull on her hair, light flashing out of his eyes as he catalogued her. A Human! A real, live, Human! The realization of the Being being right here hit him like a ton of bricks, and he could barely wait until he found 3 and the others and could tell them. Funny, this one didn't look like the ones he'd seen in books and in the War, but since this was most certainly a different dimension, then perhaps she was only a different breed – like animals. Only Humans didn't call themselves breeds, they said "races", which confused both him and 3 to no end. What did running have to do with how you looked or where you came from?

The girl cupped her hands onto the ground, allowing 4 to climb into her palms, then lifted him as she stood back up, giving another giggle as the twin batted her zipper back and forth. "Aw, you're so cute!" she cooed adoringly. "My name's Sticky. Sticky Wipplesnit!"

4 stopped playing with the zipper as he looked at her, cocking his head. Sticky? Stick-y. Adjective. Tending or designed to stick to things on contact, or covered with something that sticks. That was a name? Wipplesnit. No results found. Sticky Wipplesnit. What an odd name ... yet he felt like he'd heard it before somewhere ... he clicked at her, then pointed to the number "4" on the left side of his chest. Sticky raised an eyebrow. "4?"

He nodded, and she smiled. "You mean, that's your name, little one?"

4 nodded again, reaching out to touch her nose, and Sticky giggled, drawing away as she shook her head to get rid of the tickling feeling. Wiping her face with one aqua sleeve, the girl said apologetically, "I'm sorry for almost running you over, I didn't mean it at all. I was practicing for the Random Roster Race because Gum-Ball Gorge is the hardest section for me, and wanted to catch up with Vanellope. She's racing up ahead, nearby the Finish Line."

Gum-Ball Gorge? That explained the huge gum-ball machines and why they were on the edges of a massive canyon. 4 looked around as something in his memory flicked. Racing? Racing ... where had he heard that word before ...?

Sticky went on. "I stopped just in time because I saw a light flash, and then I saw it was you, and I didn't want to hit you, so I put on the brakes on the Taffy Turner and stopped just in time."

4 breathed a sigh of relief. So that was why she'd stopped, because he'd flashed out 3's name. That was fortunate. For once, his "screaming" actually paid off! The girl suddenly looked worried sick. "I didn't scare or hurt you very badly, did I?!"

4 shook his white head, and Sticky breathed out in relief, sitting on the hood of the aqua car, which the twin assumed was the "Taffy Turner". Was it hers? Probably. She tucked a strand of short hair behind one ear and lifted the Stitchpunk up to eye level, turning her cupped hands back and forth to study his every detail in the stitched, blue fabric and worn steel. "Can you ... can you talk?" she asked hopefully.

The twin winced and shook his head, and Sticky looked disappointed. 4 quickly held up a steel finger, then turned so that his back was facing her and focused hard on the ground below. Light streamed out of his eyes and directly projected a flickering image onto the sparkly dirt, something that looked like a pasted-together letter, with some words being typed, some scribbled, some drawn, some even objects. It was a series of words, reading, _"ONLY LIKE THIS."_

Sticky looked down at the image, raising an eyebrow again in surprise, then blinked. "... Wow. That's ... cool."

4 giggled. _"I KNOW."_

Sticky grinned. "Never thought toys could have a sense of humor," she said thoughtfully.

_"STITCHPUNK,"_ the twin corrected. _"I'M A STITCHPUNK. NOT A TOY."_

The girl looked a bit confused, but nodded. "Okay, I guess ... you don't really look much like a toy anyway."

She sat back, crossing her legs as she lowered 4 down to her lap. "No offense, but you also don't exactly look like you belong here. Where are you from?"

This time, the blue Stitchpunk projected an image of the outside of the Library on the ground, taken just as the sun was setting, and Sticky cocked her head. "What's that?"

_"THE LIBRARY,"_ he answered helpfully. _"IT'S LOCATED IN LONDON, ENGLAND. IT'S NAME WAS LOST IN WORLD WAR IV, BUT IT'S OUR HOME. WE LIVE THERE."_

The female Human perked up at that, dark brown eyes shining. "We? You're not alone?" she asked in surprise.

4 looked around. _"... I AM NOW. I'M LOST."_

She winced. "Oh ... well that explains it."

Letting 4 climb out of her hands and settle onto her pleated skirt, Sticky tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Who's your family?"

He looked up at her and smiled before projecting, _"THE NUMBERS CLAN. WE'RE NUMBERED INSTEAD OF NAMED."_

The Human looked interested. "Really? So _that's_ why you're named 4!"

_"YES, THAT'S WHY,"_ 4 giggled.

He made the projected words vanish and instead replaced it with a picture he had taken recently, of when the "tree" had first put out actual leaves. That had been an important event for the Stitchpunks, and the twins had catalogued like mad for hours until 7, who acted a bit like their mother, put them to bed. The image showed the new plant, with 3 kneeling down next to it and cataloguing one of the leaves, while 6 watched curiously next to him, striped head cocked at an angle. 5 was sitting on the dirt ground nearby, looking off at something beyond 4's photo range, and 8 had his arms crossed as usual off to the side, raising an eyebrow at the foreign object everyone was excited over. In the background, 7 was motioning with one hand while 9 appeared very confused over whatever she was saying, rubbing the back of his neck, and a bit farther off, 2 was laughing over something and 1 looked annoyed, implying maybe 2 was teasing him. The entire photo was tinged with pink light because the sun had just begun to rise, and out of all of the images 4 had taken that day, _this_ was his favorite.

4 pointed down at the picture. _"THAT'S MY CLAN. THERE'S 1, 2, 9, 7, 8, 5, 6, AND MY TWIN, 3."_

Sticky smiled. "You're a twin? That's so weird! I'm a triplet!"

The aqua girl's face softened as she sighed. "That's so cute, 4 ... imagine. A real family! We're programmed with family memories here, but we don't really have any parents or anything. At the most, we have siblings, or cousins. Not families. But it must be nice, to have a real one, right?"

4 nodded, making the image bob slightly. _"VERY NICE. I MEAN, OUR BODIES AREN'T RELATED AT ALL BECAUSE WE'RE DOLLS, BUT OUR SOULS ARE. AND THAT'S THE RELATION THAT REALLY MATTERS."_

Sticky was silent, then whistled. "Whoa. Words of wisdom from Mr. Light-Out-Of-My-Eyes, huh?" she asked teasingly.

The Stitchpunk rolled his eyes and made the picture vanish, then turned to back to look up at Sticky and tugged on the edge of her aqua and white jacket. The girl blinked. "... What?"

4 looked down at her skirt and projected, upside-down so Sticky could read it, _"CAN YOU HELP ME FIND MY CLAN?"_

The Human looked surprised, blinking as she stared down at the message, and 4 bit his lower lip nervously. _"... PLEASE?_

There was silence, and Sticky suddenly smiled as she laughed out loud, scooping up the Number in her hands to see him eye to optic. "Of course I will! I'll help you find your clan _and_ your twin, I promise! I'll search all of Sugar Rush if need be!"

4 squealed in delight and clapped his hands, eyes flashing, then stopped as his smile vanished. He slowly tilted his head. _"... SUGAR RUSH?"_ he echoed.

Sticky nodded. "Oh, yes! This is our game, you know, Sugar Rush Speedway! I've never heard of any place called the Library in Litwak's Arcade, but maybe you just got plugged in or something."

He blinked _very_ slowly.

_"I happen to remember Creator mentioning something like this. Gaming, he called it. Young beings called children went there a lot to amuse themselves. That kind of game with the cars is seeing who can be faster with the controls, and is referred to as racing ..."_

_"First Place, Lily von Schweetz! Second Place, Sticky Wipplesnit! Congratulations!"_

_"It's a game ..."_

So ... this place he was stuck in was the same pink-boxed, sugary, Japanese-sounding, girlish racing game the Numbers Clan had just watched barely half an hour ago? He was inside it? INSIDE it? As astonishing as it all sounded, it certainly made a lot of sense. Why else would everything seem colorful, and smell good, and have sparkles – sugar, he supposed – on the ground? Why else would there be gum-ball machines and pink mountains and salt water taffy-smelling cars? And racing! 2 said this was racing! Sticky was racing! And Sticky was the blue girl they'd seen the "Franci" Human playing during the tape! This was a game! He'd been transported into a game world, in America, in the past, in 2012!

And ... they were ...

Stuck.

A very _sticky_ situation indeed.

The blue-glove twin looked back down at her aqua skirt and projected the first thing that came to mind. _"NOT GAME. REAL WORLD. TELEPORTED HERE."_

For some reason, that was what he was thinking at the moment, despite being short and choppy and sounding like someone drew it on a rug ... wait, drew it on a what? Sticky's dark brown eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with one hand, still using the other to hold 4. "You ... you're from ... the real world?!" she squeaked.

4 stopped projecting, looked up at her shocked face, and nodded. The Racer Human's mouth dropped open slightly from behind her four-fingered hand, and she blinked once before quickly shaking her head. Returning her hand to it's original position under 4, Sticky brought the Stitchpunk closer to her face, mouth curled into a small, yet determined smile. "Well then, we'd better get moving in finding your family! I don't know who you really are or where exactly you came from, let alone how you got here, but I think I'll find out soon enough. My original triplet, Minty, the first-born one, said this morning she was going to the Gummy Book-Worm Library to read _The Borrowscotches,_ but you know what?"

She brought 4 even closer to her large, sparkling eyes. "The boy helped the Borrowscotches when they needed help, and in return, his memories of them helped him get better. In my own opinion, anyway. We're supposed to help people. So I'll help you. And who knows? Maybe, one day, you'll get the chance to help _me!"_

4 giggled, swatting her nose again, and Sticky smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. Climb into my pocket, I know just where to go!"

Lowering her hands to her right jacket pocket, the Human girl waited for 4 to climb in, poking his head and shoulders out to look around, and Sticky carefully slid off the Taffy Turner's hood before walking around to the side. Opening the driver's door and sliding into the front – and only – seat, she slammed the door closed and started the engine. "The President of Sugar Rush, Vanellope von Schweetz, can do teleporting stuff!" Sticky yelled over the roar of the engine. "She might know what happened and where your family is! Since she was ahead of me in racing just a little while before, she's probably almost at the castle by now! We'll catch up to her there and ask her!"

4 clicked in agreement, despite knowing Sticky couldn't possibly hear such a tiny sound over the droning engine, and the Human shot him a comforting smile before grabbing the aqua steering-wheel. **"HOLD ON!"** she yelled, stepping on the gas pedal.

The car shot forward with a blast of energy, and 4 gasped, clinging to her pocket edge as he felt the wind whip past him, accompanied by a dizzying blur of rainbow colors in the Gorge. Although at first he felt a tinge of terror upon realizing the speed they were traveling at, it was slowly replaced by a giddy feeling of excitement and adrenaline. Poking his head farther out of the jacket pocket, 4 looked out the opposite side of the Taffy Turner to watch the red dirt whiz by underneath them ... when something caught his keen eye.

Frowning slightly, he lifted his right hand and peered closely at the back of it where, somewhat deep and as perfect as if placed there, were three lines. They were bunched together at one end, near his wrist, but fanned out like feathers or rays at his knuckles, spreading out. 4 cocked his head. That was odd, he'd never seen such a strange – nor such a perfect – set of scratches before, and certainly not on his hand. And yet ... and yet, they looked rather familiar ... he couldn't place quite where, though ... 4 took a picture of the scratch and quickly searched through his multiple cataloging files in his computer-like mind, looking for a match to what was on his hand.

Lines, no, rays, no, feathers, defiantly not, hand, no, scratch, no, symbol, n– wait, yes?

The twin opened the result, and was immediately confronted of a picture of when 3'd woken up after the operation to fix his inner fan. 4 smiled faintly. That was a nice memory. He was running towards 3 at the moment, 3 turned over to face him in bed, and 7 and 5 were nearby, smiling approvingly. Then 8 was nodding a greeting at 3, and 1 was rolling his eyes, and 2 was giving 1 a look, and 6 was eyeing 8. 9 was nowhere to be seen, having been still unawakened at the time. But why had this been in the results for the symbol ...?

4's optics scanned the picture in front of him, coming down to the bottom – then stopped dead as his steel-rimmed eyes widened. 6 was holding something ... a paper. And on it was the same thing on 4's hand. Three, fanning-out lines, preceded by a wavy-lined sun and a hovering flame. The rest was blocked out by 6's golden fingers and the crumpled condition of the splattered drawing itself. The twin stared at the symbol hard, then hurriedly searched for a link to the photo he had at the moment. Only one result showed up – a video footage, taken shortly after 3 and 4 reunited after the operation and 3 fell back asleep to recover. 4 paused, then entered it, allowing the scene to replay itself literally before his eyes ...

* * *

_4 walked through the Throne Room in the Sanctuary, glancing up at the light streaming through the stained, glass window depicting a Human man in white with a golden circle around his head. 1 wasn't there, and neither was 8 – most likely, they were still in the repairing room with the others. At least, most of the others. He turned away from the colorful window and headed for a shadowy corner that looked a bit like a tent, coming up to it and pulling aside the thick cloth. He stepped inside the candle-lit room, and light flashed out of his eyes. 6? he blinked out in Morse Code._

_He heard a rustle, and turned to see 6 standing in a far corner of the room, clutching a sheet of ink paper to his chest and looking slightly startled, similar to a "deer in the headlights". The striped doll relaxed at seeing 4 and gave a shy smile. "H-h-h-hi ..." he murmured, stepping out of the corner to return to his usual spot in the center of the dark tent corner._

_6 plopped down, laying out the paper on the stained floor, and 4 crept forward curiously, crouching down to 6's eye level. The artist pulled an ink bottle over, dipping his fingers into the black liquid, then began to scribble over the already inky sheet. 4 watched, fascinated. It never ceased to amaze him how 6 drew, because what with each finger being a pen, he could draw up to five different things with one hand at the same time. Very fun to watch, but a little dizzying if you watched too long. 6 suddenly spoke. "3's o-okay ... that's g-g-good, right?"_

_4 smiled and nodded. Yes. Very much so, he flashed. I was getting worried._

_6 giggled. "Y-you all w-were."_

_The twin cocked his head. You weren't?_

_The striped Stitchpunk shook his yarn-covered head. "N-n-no ... I Am s-said he wouldn't d-die, and the Son s-said so t-t-too ... H-He doesn't lie, s-so I ... I b-believed Him."_

_4 blinked. He had no idea who "I Am" or "Son" was, except for being several of the voices 6 said he heard – the good ones – but nodded anyway. 6 looked back down at the paper, resuming drawing, and 4 looked down with him. Saw something? he asked._

_The younger doll nodded slightly. "D-dream ... then it t-t-turned int-to a n-nightmare ... asked i-in m-morning ... vision e-explained ..."_

_He stopped drawing, grabbed the paper, and held it up to show the still-wet drawing to 4, and the blue Stitchpunk stared at it in surprise, raising a stitched eyebrow. The scrap was covered, simply COVERED, with dozens of elaborate, yet simple, symbols, ranging from obvious to as cryptic as you could get. At the top were nine images, neatly lined up and dry, meaning they were scribbled down a few hours ago, but underneath them was a jumble of damp symbols. They all depicted random, everyday, odd objects and shapes – a rainbow was down there, then a storm cloud nearby, a speech bubble near the top, a spool of thread to the left, a cracked circle above it, a clock to the right, and more then 4 cared to even attempt to name. It was mind-boggling. How'd 6 do this?_

_What are they? the blue doll signed._

_6 looked away, as he so often had ended up doing these days. "Us ... a-alone is g-g-gone ..."_

_He abruptly turned the drawing over, showing the blank back of it to 4. Or, at least, it was supposed to be blank. It was scribbled on as well, but there were only five symbols drawn, and in the very center of the back, each with a single number scrawled over them. The first was some kind of spiky circle, with the number "1" over it. The second was a streak that faded out, with the number "2". The third looked like a blast symbol or something, and was numbered "5". The fourth was a line with other wavy lines coming down it, like water dripping, with the number "6". The fifth showed a magnet with zig-zag lines out the ends, with the number "8". 4 frowned in confusion, looking back up at 6. What are those? Are those us?  
_

_6 smiled sadly and, reaching around the paper, slashed through all five of the symbols with one finger, leaving an inky, dripping line. "T-t-take it a-a-away, m-make it n-nothing, l-less then ..." he whispered._

_4 felt a chill run down his spine for some reason, upon hearing those words. Take it away ...? The black and white Stitchpunk let the drawing fall to the floor, mismatched eyes widening as they focused on the tent door, and 4 turned just as it got opened up. 8 stepped into the room and, seeing 4, nodded at him. "C'mon, follow me. 2 wants to ask ya something," he ordered gruffly._

_4 nodded back meekly. In a minute, he flashed._

_Turning back to 6, who was paying more attention to 8 then 4 at this point, the twin leaned forward. Take what away?_

_Unfortunately, 8 couldn't understand Morse Code, and therefore couldn't understand 4's answer that he'd come with him soon. Growling slightly, the white Stitchpunk stomped forward and grabbed 4's arm, roughly pulling the teacher to his feet with a yelp. "Hurry up, we ain't got all day!" he barked angrily._

_The sudden movement from 8 caused the larger doll to bang into the ink bottle nearby, which tipped over and crashed to the floor, pouring ink out over the drawing and forever destroying the symbols drawn on it. 4's optics widened, and 6 gasped softly, covering his mouth with his stained, golden hands. 8 snickered, giving a cruel smirk. "Watch it, freak," he sneered at 6 before tightening his grip on 4 and dragging him out of the room._

_4 looked back helplessly in time to see the striped artist's face fall, and 6 picked up the ink bottle, setting it aside as he tried to wipe away the ink from the paper. But the damage was done. The drawing was ruined. 6 bit his lip, staring down at the black picture, then whispered softly, "T-they will r-r-remember ... t-they will r-r-rebuild ... t-they will c-come back ... s-s-s-stronger ..."_

_He wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face in his knees as he choked back a sob, and the cloth fell back, blocking anything else from 4's view as 8 pulled him out of the Throne Room ..._

* * *

An extra-hard gust of wind to the face snapped 4 out of his daze and back to reality as the footage cut to black, and he shook his head, mind racing. All right, so 6 HAD drawn the symbol ... and he'd seen something. He knew something. But what did any of it mean? What were the symbols for? What was supposed to be taken away? Even odder, why had 6 said that? The whole "they will" thing? Technically, if the "they" was a "we", then that ... that would be the words that were written on the beam of a huge building that once stood in America. The Freedom Tower? The One World Trade Center? How in Creator could 6 possibly know about that? What did that have to do with anything?

Maybe, when he found 3, he could ask him. Perhaps his twin knew something 4 didn't as well. And maybe he could ask 6, too. It had to mean something important, or else the artist wouldn't have drawn all that, despite it's mess of seemingly random scribbles. And, privately ... 4 couldn't help but feel a little bad for 6 after remembering that particular incident, especially as it reminded him of "the Shattering", an event that was ... never mind. Only himself, 3, and 2 really knew about that, and they'd never told anybody else. Ever. It was strange, now that he thought about it, they'd never told anybody about the second part of the Shattering, the Straw. Or the Mischance. Or the Locked. Anybody meaning 7, 9, 6, and 5 mainly, occasionally including 1 and 8, but not often, as they were the ones that mainly caused those events.

It was kinda like it was just the three of them, four if you counted 6, since he didn't need to be told because he somehow already knew everything, that kept the biggest secrets.

And the most painful ...

4 shuddered slightly, hunching his head between his shoulders as he tried to forget that. The scenery had changed quite a lot by now, it looked like they were racing through a pinkish-red and white forest of huge, candy-cane trees or something. Which they most likely were. 4 raised his head, a small smile coming over his face as he felt the mint-smelling wind whip past him, blowing back his thick hood and sending sugary sparkles flying past. He giggled, and Sticky looked down at him before staring in surprise. She then smiled. "Hey ... I've never seen you without your hood on before!" she exclaimed over the roaring.

The twin froze, being unaware she had been looking at him, and suddenly felt incredible exposed. He hurriedly yanked his hood back over his white head, blushing slightly from embarrassment, and Sticky's grin widened. "You're blushing? I didn't know dolls could do that!"

She started giggling uncontrollably. "But it's _GREEN!_ It makes you look like you're sick or something!"

That comment only succeeded in making 4 blush even more, the pale green in his face darkening, and he pulled his hood farther over his face in a futile attempt to hide it.

Where was 3 when he needed him ...?

* * *

_"So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets."_

_Matthew 7: 12, ESV (English Standard Version)_

_TF (TFTime)_

_Wilbur (Wilbur-Nator)_

_Skye (RobinsInTheSkye)_

_With the guest appearance of Mystery (yet again) whom we do not own! Although we wish ... expect more of him in future author's notes!_


End file.
